Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and howlet's wing.
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
A shiver of old-world mandrake root. A palm of wolfsbane. A throw of fragrant bergamot and vetiver to leach vibrancy from the air. A curious collection of script in a dusty tome. Yet in the hands of the necromancer, a few nondescript elements and a monotone incantation can overwhelm the boundaries of the cauldron and take wing. Dark crowing in tones of deepest purple and crimson spills out an unmistakeable chill that rattles the bones and sinews of all within its reach. All are pulled down. All are pulled under. Yet a simple twitching in our visage can banish the suffocating powers that be in an instant. We all hold the power of this universal elixir to return the wizard from whence he came. So, smile.
