The first thing Nero realized was that the Potion was sweet.
Extremely sweet.
The taste flooded his mouth, thick and cloying, coating his tongue and the back of his throat in a syrupy film that seemed to cling to everything it touched. It was overwhelming, the sweetness so intense it bordered on bitterness, as though it had crossed some invisible threshold and become something else entirely. He grimaced, forcing himself to swallow the last of the liquid, and then lowered the vial with trembling hands.
He shook his head sharply, trying to clear the taste from his mind, but it lingered still, persistent and abrasively harsh.
Then a heat descended upon him, starting in his chest as a sudden warmth that bloomed outward like fire spilling through his veins. Nero's breath caught, his hand instinctively pressing against his sternum.
