The sound of the pen scratching against paper filled the quiet room, a steady rhythm that replaced the earlier exchange of words. Kaidren had already finished sketching the ingredients—every leaf, root, vial of fluid, and crystalline shard he could recall from memory—meticulously outlined across the smooth white sheets Logan had provided. He hadn't been content with mere drawings either. To avoid unnecessary confusion, he added notes beside each sketch, brief descriptions of their qualities: bitter root, sap-like fluid, frost-coated stem, feather-like petal. Simple but effective.
He knew well enough that if two ingredients looked remotely alike, it could easily spiral into trouble. Imagine Logan or whoever the bank entrusted with the process mistaking one for another—it would ruin the batch and, worse, possibly harm whoever consumed it. He wasn't about to allow his formula to be discredited simply because someone confused a fern for a weed.
