“There is no cure,” the baker said as she peered into the mage’s eyes.
The first sound that either one of them heard as they woke was the scraping of a chain on the stone floor. After a few heartbeats of stunned silence, they both remembered what had happened to bring them there. They both looked at each other. The erpon spoke first, believing that the human child would need some comfort.
There is a potion that can be made from the bright yellow mushroom that grows in the vales beyond the blue grasses. The potion must be made in a certain way or it would contain no power at all. The potion had to be made twice, once at sunrise and once at sunset, of the same day. So in truth, it was two potions. Whatever the potion made at sunrise did, the potion made at sunset could undo.