Zhirk turned Hervald over. A small bottle clung to the side of his hand. I squatted down to get a better view. It was made of an odd looking metallic glass. A small cork stopper lay on the floor.
I looked Hervald over carefully. His eyes were open and glassy. Spittle dribbled from the corner of his mouth, dripping to the carpet and soaking slowly in. His chest rose and fell shallowly, so he wasn’t dead. It was like no one was home at all. I looked again at the bottle and sounded out a small spell to see if magick was active. The moment the spell activated, I had to douse it, as the power nearly burned my eyes from their sockets. The bottle was glowing like a small sun. What the hell was going on here?