I inhale. Sulfurous Ash, Nightshade, Blood Moss and Black Pearl. Someone else has been here and it's recent. The breeze still carries the musk of parchment and the languid stench of ink. I wrinkle my nose. Whoever it was spends too much in books. I take one more sniff with the sensation that I just missed something. Sure enough there it is: Black Powder. It's not caked though but rather barely there. An ingredient not regularly used, this is a new one. I almost laugh hysterically aloud. This is a new one. In my hand are dark green shards of glass. Those and the streaks of red oozing from swath of flesh cut deep enough to form its own canyon are remnants of trying to steal my heirloom back from the blood elemental. The blue probably would have been better. As it stands, the yellow shows off my own fluid in a sharp contrast. Laughing, I throw my head back. It's not the first time blood has permeated my clothes. It won't be the last. I hear it then. My head snaps with the sound of a footstep in the distance and I drop to a knee. The new one. I may be vertical but my thighs are just as strong as they would be were I crouched lower. Poor thing. They need to have some sense and be gone when I get there. The one item capable of slowing the change has come to a wretched end. I'm hungry.