“How long do you think we have between opening the door and being hit by fire?” Dovhran had stopped at the door to turn back and ask. “I don’t know how much time I have between starting to cast the spell from the scroll and the spell happening.”

“Start it and hold it.” Flip growled from the other side of the short hallway between the library and the fire room. “And if you can’t hold it, you’ll just have to deal with the mess.”

Dovhran scrunched his face in confusion, unsure of what to make of the wizard’s advice. Selian, likewise, didn’t seem very sure of what the wizard meant.

“I suppose I’ll start it and walk out as I get close to activating it…” Dovhran trailed off as he unfurled the scroll he had kept in his hands. “Selian, would you open the door when I give you the signal?”

Selian gave a nod, but didn’t try to speak over Flip grumbling something about “That was what I said to do. You just said it differently.”

The mercenary held that scroll out in front of him, closed his eyes for a moment to center himself, and then began to mutter the incantation. Midway through, with his mouth still moving, Dovhran nodded to Selian. The elf nodded in return and began to push the door open into the fire room. With a swift motion that did not resemble Dovhran’s movement in the tomb up to that point, the changeling stepped out and was accompanied by wave of barely visible energy that disturbed the dust on the ground and ruffled the changeling’s cloak. Flames began to spray towards the open doorway that separated the fire room in half, but the hungry tendrils were repelled as though they were reaching past a wall of flowing water and churning wind.

“Don’t hang around all day now, this is actually a really hard spell to maintain.” Dovhran growled over his shoulder.

The second the flames had hit the wall of arcane power, Dovhran had felt a magical strain he had never experienced before while using scrolls; something that Flip had felt twice in a few short days. The arcane fibers of his being were being stretched to their limit, and the longer he held the spell in opposition to the nonstop bursts of flame the more strain it put on his body.

Selian and Flip did not waste any time. Selian was at the door opposite the one they were exiting in a second and had something in hand to attempt to pry open the door with. Flip was right behind her, ready to sacrifice his magical stores to open the door by force if needed. But the door opened easily with just a turn of the nob, and the two darted in.

“Dovhran, the doors open. Let’s go!” Selian called out to the changeling.

Dovhran was running the second he heard he could. The spell faded quickly behind him and flames were breaking through just as he slammed the door behind him. With shaking legs, Dovhran propped himself up against the wall and took a series of deep breaths before leaning to the side and retching onto the floor.

“That wasn’t so bad…” the changeling gasped quietly as he tried to regain his composure—though he was quickly undermined by more retching.

“Drain your ears and lie down.”Flip suggested.

“I can’t just drain the fluid out of my ears.” Dovhran grumbled. “And I’m not lying down in here.”

In here happened to be a short hallway identical to the one on the opposite side of the fire room, separating it from the library. It also happened to have a sizeable amount of vomit on the floor. The door at the opposite end of the hallway looked identical to the one that had led to the library, and as Selian checked the nob, like the other door had been it was unlocked.

“It’s open.”

Flip leaned around the elf to look at the partially ajar door. “I don’t think locks are expected to do much good at this point.”

The elf closed the door quietly, but kept her hand on the nob. “We should take a look. As soon as he’s ready to go.”

“He is ready to go.” Dovhran forced himself upright and marched over to the door. “And I’ll be fine. Thank you for asking.”

“I thought so.” Flip grinned and put a hand on Dovhran’s shoulder.

The changeling quickly removed the offered hand and pushed his way past his companions. All three of them saw into the next room at roughly the same time. Beyond the door was a much smaller and much more dimly lit room. The perimeter of the small rectangular room was lined with wooden workbenches that each had a metal top that covered the rough wooden construction. The purpose of the top was straightforward, as each workbench was littered with vials and canisters of chemical components. The walls and ceiling were also notably different from those of the rest of the tomb up to that point. The walls were a smooth slab of some kind of material that none of the explorers recognized; it felt like metal when touched, but was indistinguishable from stone when looked at. The sound of their boots reverberated off the walls as they stepped into the room, and they were too wary of traps to notice that the sound reverberated off of the walls with the vibratory quality of glass.

“It’s an alchemy lab.” Selian whispered. “Or maybe just chemistry. I don’t see anything here that has obvious magical roots.”

“Alchemy is just chemistry with magical ingredients.” Dovhran shook his head as he examined the contents of the tables. “Not that we would ever find anything out, none of these containers are labeled.”

Flip followed Dovhran deeper into the lab while Selian skirted about the perimeter. They moved slowly watching carefully where they placed their feet with every step, but they were also distracted by the contents of the tables. Selian in particular was the most distracted, peaking at the contents of every clear container and opening the lids of any loosely sealed jar or jug to peek inside. The more she explored, the more the lab made sense to her. But it was not until the mercenary and wizard made their way to the far wall of the lab, opposite to the corner that housed the door, that the challenge of the room presented itself.

“He’s left a message.” Flip announced as he pulled a sheet of parchment free from a nail that pinned it to the surface of a workbench. “Gmid’s handwriting, and in elven fliete.”

The mention of her native tongue caught Selian’s attention enough to cause her to look up from the workbench she was standing in front of. All ears were focused as Flip read the message aloud.

Three mixtures mixed—

incongruous and vile,

toxic to the body,

shaken in not one phial.

One must rust and bruise,

for this metal resists the touch of time,

the kiss of death,

and the magic of the lime.

Two must break and burn,

crack with heat

what One must spurn

and makes concrete.

Three is a blast.

A crackle and spark.

Unseen, with a gas

that ignites in the dark.

Find these three,

and make them one.

Then unfurl them free

and you are done.

“That sounds like a riddle if I’ve ever heard one. And not a very subtle one either.” Dovhran scoffed. “All we have to do is make the right mixture from the ingredients here and throw it at the door…”

The changeling did not finish his statement. He had looked back up and around the room to notice that there was only one door, and it was the one that they had entered the lab with.

“I don’t think figuring out where to throw it will be an issue.” Selian piped up, pointing at the wall to the right of the workbench that had held the note.

There was a large scorch mark dead center on the wall that looked as though it was fresh, though that was unlikely. Flip dragged his finger across the blackened circle on the wall and it came up covered in soot. The streak made by the wizard’s finger was nearly perfectly clean.

“Do you have the energy to disintegrate that wall?” Dovhran asked, mildly embarrassed.

Flip applied some pressure to the marked wall, tapped it with his knuckle, and, to the disgust of both his companions, licked the surface. After all of his tests, Flip concluded “I could spare the effort. But I do not think it would work.”

Dovhran’s eyes widened in alarmed confusion. “I thought magic could reduce any solid object to ash.”

“That would be something…” Flip chuckled. “But no. I’m not familiar with this material, but I doubt any magic would effect it at all. It resonates like crystal, has the striations of naturally split stone, and the feel of a metal. I’d wager, based on the riddle, that it is a mixture of the three specifically aligned to resist magical and non-magical attempts to destroy it.”

“So, you think it’s a three part mixture? One part of chemical for each part of the material?” Selian had gotten close and was looking over the parchment in Flip’s hand as she spoke. “Oh? What’s that? At the bottom, you didn’t read that part.”

“Oh. I wasn’t sure it was writing at all. It isn’t the same language, or any language I know.” Flip grumbled as he involuntarily relinquished the page

Selian shook her head as she red the text on the bottom of the page carefully. “It is fliete. It’s just chemists shorthand, not the poetic style you're used to. These marks indicate numbers, these are mathematical symbols, and that is a letter F written as a mathematical variable.”

The elf held the parchment out for her companions to see as she spoke. Neither Flip nor Dovhran were familiar with the markings, but they nodded in easy agreement.

“So that’s…” Dovhran started but stopped himself in hopes that Selian would fill in what he couldn’t figure out.

“It’s a shorthand chemical formula. 4+5f=1. So compound four is mixed with compound five after compound five has been altered by whatever variable F is.” Selian was poking around the containers on the workbench the note had been on as she spoke.

None of the containers were marked, but they did seem to be in a particular order. From right to left at the back of the bench, there were three empty glass containers followed by a series of other containers. Most seemed filled, though two that were being held upside down on a wire stand looked empty. The two empty glass canisters were, however, sealed with corks and wax over top like wine bottles.

“And these other two formulas.” Selian place the parchment down where it had been on the workbench when Flip found it. “They’re pretty similar. Each one outlines how to make each of the compounds that need to be used in the final mixture.”

Flip raised an eyebrow at the elf who seemed to be, for once, in her element. “I believe you are better prepared for this than I, so I will sit in the corner over there and read my book.”

“I can help, but I don’t know how much assistance I can be.” Dovhran sighed as he walked up next to Selian at the workbench. “Where do we start?”

“These containers at the back, I think they are in a specific order.” Selian pulled the fourth and fifth containers from the right to the front of the bench. “So these are four and five. Five needs to be treated, then we add four to it. The result, we pour into this glass phial.”

As Selian pulled the first phial on the right over to the front as well she examined the contents of number five. It was a blackish brown sludge that moved around its container easily enough, but didn’t look like it would pour easily. Four was a yellowish pale powder with the consistency of sand. Without a better way to analyze what was in five, Selian uncorked the bottle and let it aerate. The room immediately began to smell like death.

“Oh. Oh no. What is that?!” Dovhran immediately felt nauseous again and covered his nose and mouth to filter out the stench of the chemical.

“Probably some sort of primordial sludge. Smells like decomposition.” Selian replied coolly. “I think we need to heat it. Heat refines petroleum into oil. Heat and compression.”

Selian recorked the bottle and began to look for a candle or some other heat source. By the time she found what looked like a burner the smell had begun to subside. The burner had no obvious igniter, and rather than rummage through her own pack for her flint, she brought the stand over to Flip. The wizard glanced up as she approached, and without fully taking his eyes from the page of the book he was reading, dipped his fingers into a pouch at his belt and then snapped them over the burner. The instrument immediately caught and produced a hot green flame.

“Thank you, Faengil.”

“Mmmhm.”

Without further fuss, the bottle was hung over the flame and Selian moved down to the next formula on the page. 6+7f=2. It seemed just as simple, and there were additional burners scattered throughout the workbenches in the lab. Selian cleared off a space on a second bench and sat down containers six and seven next to a burner. Six was a silvery metallic powder while seven was a nearly translucent, waxy yellow semi-solid. Without opening the wide lid on seven, Selian knew it was a rendered animal fat of some kind. It would not need as much time over a flame, it likely only needed to melt into a more liquid form. So, without lighting the burner on the second bench, Selian returned to the parchment to prepare for the final formula. 3=(9+8)f+10.

The final formula was written in a more complicated layout. Containers eight and nine, which contained a thick red liquid and an even thicker blue liquid respectively, would probably need to be combined and then heated. The product could then be mixed with container ten, the last container on the bench, which held a similar compound to container seven but was more opaque and had little to no give to it when jostled.

Being the mixture that would likely be the fastest, Selian began with eight and nine. At a third bench, the elf uncorked the two bottles and mixed them into the third phial that had been on the first bench.

“Here, Dovhran, light this burner off of that one.” Selian handed the last burner to the changeling, who went about his task quickly.

The elf watched as she swirled the two chemicals together in the phial. They did not combine so much as the blue liquid began to absorb the red one. And as it did, it began to turn a yellowish green color. Selian had stopped moving the phial, but the contents continue to moved unnaturally. As soon as Dovhran had returned with the burner and set it in place on its stand, he looked over to the phial in Selians hands and jolted into an alert state.

“Cork that! Fast!” Barked the changeling.

Selian did as directed without hesitation, as she had been just about to question the room as to what they thought the mixture was. Her unspoken question was quickly answered.

“That’s a slime!” A shiver ran down Dovrhan’s spine as he inspected the phial closely to confirm. “Faengil caught one in a vial on our way up to Norwen that looked just like that. But it was impregnated with flammable oil that was already in the vial… and it was incredibly explosive.”

“Ahh.” Selian hummed as she eyed the phial herself before placing it over the burner. “This makes sense. That means ten is probably a natural petroleum of some kind.”

The two watched the slime over the burner as it writhed and then slowly changed color to a more orange-red and became more docile. It was still very much alive, if slimes could be considered alive at all, as it moved occasionally; but it was sluggish, like a tired and comfortable cat.

“I think that’s where it needs to be.” Dovhran whispered, worried that noise might bother the slime. “And if you leave it closed for too long it will suffocate.”

“Alright, let’s feed it then.”

Selian retrieved the warm glass phial, uncorked it once again, and began to scoop the contents of container ten into the phial. The slime consumed the contents slowly, and each bit that dissolved in its form contributed to a gradual change in color from orange to a deep dark purple. When it seemed the color would change no more, Selian ceased feeding the slime and recorked the phial at Dovhran’s suggestion.

Returning to the first bench, the two chemists made note of changes in the container over the burner. Through the smoky glass container, they could see that the dark sludge had clarified and split into two distinct liquids; a darker thicker one at the top and an amber thinner one at the bottom. Taking care, Selian poured the contents into the first phial and then began to add in the contents of the fourth container. And before she could shake and swirl the mixture together it began to bubble on its own off the heat. A gas that smelled even worse than the raw primordial slurry began to waft out as it bubbled and the phial was quickly recorked.

Dovhran kept a careful eye on the first phial, as it continued to burble slowly as it cooled back down and mixed itself together. Selian, however, changed her attention back to the second workbench. She lit the burner, placed the seventh container over the heat and watched as its contents quickly melted into similarly colored liquid. As soon as it was all melted, she pulled it free from the heat and extinguished the burner. Six and seven were both mixed into the second phial and seemed to have no reaction. They only blended together and took on a more glittering gold and silver look.

“Okay. So we have One, Two, and Three. Now what?” Dovhran asked, still keeping an eye on the first phial.

“We need to find a way to mix them safely.” Selian had begun to pan around the room, searching for anything that looked like it would be for mixing three things together. “I don’t think that we could do it without some sort of specific mechanism. They aren’t stable enough compounds.”

“What… what do you mean by unstable?”

“There is a good chance that any of these could explode if mixed improperly.”

Dovhran, suddenly very aware of the danger around him, stepped clear of the workbenches and towards the center of the room. A metal drain at the center of the room that he had not noticed clinked loosely under his feet and distracted him. He didn’t see Selian identify the only thing in the room that she could describe as a three part mixing apparatus and make her way over to it. When he looked up, the elf was already attaching the three phials into the device.

The mixing device was a vertical spinning wheel with three spouts. Each spout had a sort of clipping mechanism that held the phial in place by the opening and allowed the contents of whatever phial was positioned at the top to flow down to the other two. Selian began with the first mixture, uncorking it and affixing it to the spout at the bottom, then rotated it and held it up for the second phial to be attached without letting the first flow out of the open spout. When the third compound was attached, it had to be held at a very careful angle so that the other two phials would not flow into each other.

Without any indication of what was supposed to mix in what order, Selian allowed the contraption to balance itself. It it didn’t, she had the idea to start with the first phial on top. But it seemed to weigh perfectly so that the second phial was on top and flowed evenly into the first and third. The two phials at the bottom burbled subtly, and the elf backed away for fear they might burst. But nothing did. Instead, the phial on top that had been number two, which looked empty, seemed to outweigh. the other two and moved itself down to the lower position on the wheel. The third phial flowed half of its contents evenly into the second while the first phial started to sluggishly dribble its syrupy contents down. By the time any of the contents of phial one reached the opening, two and three had leveled out to share the bottom of the wheel while one became stationed directly above them.

It had become obvious that there was more than just liquid reactions occurring. There was some kind of gas exchange happening as well. Just as the first drops of the slurry from phial one reached two and three, there was a cloud of green gas that erupted from the third phial and a cloud of opaque white gas from the second. As both gases mixed up into the first phial, its contents began to liquefy and the whole wheel began to spin rapidly. Various colored gasses were starting to leak out around the spouts and seemed to propel the contraption faster.

Selian grew less and less worried as the reaction continued. It seemed to be a very intentional arrangement, and that made her feel safe. She felt that it would be clear when it was ready to uncouple the phials. And it was. The contents of all three phials had whittled down to one. Selian wasn’t quite sure what had been in the phial originally, but the gasses had cascaded out into the room and washed down the drain—as though they were heavy like water—and what remained had poured into one phial. The mixture was distinctly separated into three separate compounds that were no longer mixing together. They had reached some kind of equilibrium and lined up, oddly, in vertical sections. The left most section was a milky white liquid, the middle was a yellow fluid that reminded Selian of vegetable oil, and the one of the right was a thick looking blackish purple slurry. The phial uncoupled easily enough and as Selian rotated the container around the contents seemed to stay perfectly in place like a compass needle.

“That was… the most terrifying process I’ve ever… witnessed.” Dovhran was coughing. He’d gotten some of the gasses in his lungs as they had swirled around his feet and down into the drain.

“I think that went exactly as intended.” Selian smiled, still holding the phial up to the light. “Now move out of the way.”