Leviathan

- L E V I A T H A N -
the monster is me

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INVENTORY

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Aged Tome

Dragonmade

Like fine wine, tomes only get better with age. (Special thanks Jayfox.)

70

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Ancestral Incense

Dragonmade

A potent incense that allows one to commune with their ancestors. (Designed by EW)

75

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Encapsulated Mist

Dragonmade

Soft laughter echos within.

53

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Intact Parchment

Dragonmade

Perfect for diaries, manifestos, and shopping lists.

15

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Glass Beaker

Transmutation

Meep meep, meep meep! Glass beakers help keep transmutation ingredients separate when crafting a recipe.

0

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I wasn't always this way - scarred, terrified of myself, and haunted by the past. I wasn't always bitter and thirsting for vengeance, for revenge. I loved my craft, loved the bubbling, softly simmering brews that cast eerie glows reflected in my starry eyes. Alchemy was my life; I was devoted to it, like a mother to her hatchling. But perhaps the fumes had more impact on me than I realized.

It was a normal day, the one that changed me forever. I remember standing by a faded, tired window, cracking it open, and looking outside, where life bustled on. Hatchlings chased one another, squealing, and occasionally being reprimanded by their gossiping mothers, always with an indulgent smile. The air was dewy, infused with the newfound hope of morning and the rustle of breezy flowers. Dappled sunlight cast its rays on the streets, and puffs of wind made the trees dance, and the grass sway.

I remember preparing my ingredients, inhaling the rich, fragrant scents of my craft and leaning into the soothing chop-chop-chop of my knife striking the cutting board. I distinctly recall the rhythmic ticking of a nearby clock, as though counting down the precious few moments of my sanity.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

I was particularly eager for this batch as I had never once created it, having found the recipe shrouded in a dilapidated kitchen cabinet while rummaging for ingredients. The parchment was, evidently, quite ancient, and tinged with a yellowish-copper that seeped through the words and leaked onto the page. On that paper, in loose, sprawling letters, it meticulously detailed the steps to brewing 'The Leviathan's Elixir'.

Being the naive, curious dragon that I was, I just couldn't resist the seemingly harmless challenge. If it feels wrong, or isn't going according to plan, I'll just discard it, my former self reasoned. The ingredients were innocuous enough and relatively easy to obtain--only two of them were not in my personal inventory, which was certainly unusual, (as I boasted an extensive range of items) but I wasn't too perturbed. Once the ingredients were gathered, I began.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The steps were suspiciously vague and relied on excessive amounts of intuition, but I had been confident in my abilities as an alchemist. I regret that now.

Slowly, bewitchingly, I fell into the natural rhythm of stirring the Stygian potion, the anticipation setting my young heart aquiver. The measurements had to be precise, and I threw myself at my craft.

It was at that moment I realized something wasn’t quite right. The concoction I had eagerly created had an irresistible pull, dragging me towards blissful oblivion, every second tugging at my polluted mind. I didn’t have much longer.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

I wish I had stopped there. Threw the remaining ingredients away, disposed of the simmering potion, and washed my mind and claws clean of its evil grasp. But it didn’t work out that way. I had to find out what the potion would create.

As I added the last ingredient, I can recall a distinct aroma of cinnamon tickling my nostrils, and the sweet tingling of peppermint on my tongue. I was suddenly, inexplicably, aware of my surroundings—the rumble of laughter from two old friends, a persistent merchant clanging a pot and advertising his wares, the rustle of leaves as the wind sang it's eerie song, and my own heartbeat reverberating in my ears.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

My eyes sharpened. I could see every short-lived bubble in the dark, heartless brew, every reflection as it shifted and rippled. I stared back at myself, my eyes wide with curiosity and innocence.

Not for long.

Without my realization, the potion had begun to glow. At first, it was a scintillating green, but it soon flowed into a much more ominous, vicious crimson. The color of blood.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

I leaned forward, in a trance. The concoction seemed to be calling me, forcing me to behold its glory, and the longer I stared, the more enchanted I became—a vicious cycle.

Somewhere inside my mind, a tiny, seemingly insignificant voice whispered, Look away. Look away now, and you will save yourself years of bitter regret. Unwisely, I didn’t heed this voice—instead, I pushed it away, deeper into the abyss of memories long forgotten.

Up until now, I hadn’t been aware of the ambient ringing in my ears. But as I sank further and further into a trance, the ringing grew into a crescendo of discordant harmony and I simply couldn’t ignore it. My mind blanked.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

I couldn’t move. It was as though my body was unconscious, but my mind and senses weren’t. I felt my surroundings, the strange attraction to the potion, and the aromatic smells it was emitting. But I couldn’t do anything. Then, a voice, coming from the darkest parts of my soul:

Drink the potion.

In horror, I watched as talons that didn’t feel like my own mechanically snatched a cup from the counter and, with no hesitation, dunked it into the sinister brew, and downed it all in one gulp. I tasted the unrelenting bitterness of the drink, and it filled me with emotions far beyond what I was capable of feeling: an undying thirst for revenge, for survival, and for living fire. My body shuddered.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The world, in my tainted eyes, stilled. I couldn’t quite feel my body; a desperate numbness had settled over it, as though trying to protect me from what was to come. My vision filled with inky darkness, and suddenly I, the curious, young alchemist, was no more.

The clock shattered.

I AM LEVIATHAN.

LEVIATHAN

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