The next day, a few snowflakes began to drift from the sky.
Ian stood before the constant-temperature cabinet, his fingertips resting on the handle as he slowly pulled the door open.
A rush of cold air, mingled with the fresh scent of medicinal herbs, flowed out.
Deep inside the cabinet, a single crystal tube lay alone.
Inside the tube, the pale silver potion had long since solidified, its surface covered in a layer of grayish-white, flocculent precipitate.
This was the one Aidele had just sent back.
According to her, when the potion was dripped onto her father's brow, it had only glowed for three seconds.
After those three seconds, the light went out, and the level of pollution remained completely unchanged.
"Almost completely ineffective..."
Ian muttered to himself, taking out the tube of failed potion and holding it up to the light for careful observation.
