He held the dusty bottle up to the light, turning it in his hand, catching the torchlight here and there.
The last love potion.
The texts of the time spoke highly of the multitude of various potions that created love, that imbued others with loveliness. Supposedly people back then fell in love all the time.
He should take it with him, have it tested, analysed, studied. But magic wouldn't have a scientific reason, and besides, he was sick of being unloved.
So he opened the bottle and began to drink it.
Discovering if was just alcohol kinda bummed him out.
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