Distillation of the Stave

I cleared a patch of damp moss from a slate table, instructing Lock and Barrel to steady a rusted iron retort stand while Shock ground dried nightshade berries into sulfurous paste. With the sharp tip of an iron stylus, I carved the angular branches of an Icelandic galdrastafur into the stone, interlacing the ancient binding stave with modern alchemical distillation conduits. Forbidden sorcery and unorthodox science merely seek the same objective: unraveling rigid natural laws. As the distilled vapor condensed and dripped into the center of the etched symbol, it flared with a cold, pale luminescence. While my three masked scouts jumped back in startled cackles, I leaned closer, examining the glowing crystallization forming precisely along the runes.