Isabella grabbed the carved wooden bowl with one hand and dipped it into the clay pot of cool water. Her movements were fast but oddly careful, like someone pretending not to care but secretly trying to ace the test. She peeked over her shoulder before seamlessly snatching a pale-green herb from her space—the kind of herb she never shared unless someone was dying or about to make her cry.
It looked unimpressive. Thin. Scraggly. Kind of like it had been stepped on by a deer and forgotten by nature itself. But this unassuming thing? It was her secret weapon.
She dropped it into the water with a soft plop.
Almost immediately, the liquid thickened like it had a grudge. Within seconds, it morphed from water into a glistening, smooth cream that clung to the edges of the bowl like fresh honey. Isabella blinked.
"What in the—?" she muttered under her breath, tilting her head. "You're telling me that thing turns into this? That's so suspicious. That's criminal behavior, actually."
