Within the lower terrace of one of the recently sanctified alcoves in Vaingall, Sarkha'una, the Speaker of Veins, stood barefoot in her sanctum.
"Now that most of my materials have been replenished," Sarkha'una lazily smiled. "Might as well make the most of my first request in a while."
The room was structured like a burrow—hollowed from rock, laced with moss-veined roots, lined with shelves fashioned from aged fungal planks.
Each surface overflowed with bottles, phials, crushed seeds, preserved organ petals, and small wax-sealed canisters of bone-powder tinctures.
In the center of the room, a spiraling mortar made of stone and coiled with embedded veins of fossilized resin spun gently in suspension.
Sarkha'una rotated her wrist slowly, pouring pale green extract into the top funnel of the mixer. Below it, a slow, bubbling churn was taking place, reacting with powdered tendril husk already suspended in moon-crushed liquid.
