The Hollow was quiet.
Too quiet.
Not the silence of peace, but of something held in breath—tight, waiting.
Kael sat in his room, cross-legged. The lamplight flickered on the walls, casting long shadows across the floor.
The bottle rested in front of him.
He had placed it there an hour ago. Maybe more. He hadn't moved since.
It hadn't either.
Until now.
A single pulse.
Soft. Green. Like a glowworm flaring once in warning.
Kael leaned in.
He didn't know what compelled him. He wasn't being watched. He didn't feel danger.
But he felt... summoned.
He unwrapped the cloth, careful as if unveiling a blade.
The bottle pulsed again.
This time, it was warmer.
Not hot. Not threatening. Just... aware.
He hesitated.
Then, with both hands, he pulled the cork free.
A faint hiss. No pressure. No gas. Just a shift in the air.
And then—
There it was.
One single drop.
Suspended in the center of the bottle.
Emerald green, but too vivid—like it was lit from within, like it was waiting to fall but never would.
Kael's breath caught.
He had no words for what he felt. Awe? Fear?
Hunger.
Not his.
He almost reached in.
Almost.
His fingertips hovered near the mouth of the bottle.
The drop trembled.
Not from motion. From attention.
It knew.
He recoiled.
Closed the bottle. Sealed it tight. Wrapped it again.
Pushed it away.
Then pulled it back.
He stared at it for a long time.
This wasn't just spirit liquid.
This wasn't alchemy.
It was alive.
Or something close to it.
That night, Kael didn't sleep.
But not from fear.
From decision.
He would not use it.
Not yet.
Not until he understood what it wanted.