The glittering pink liquid sloshes back and forth, defying the steady cold iron cauldron that holds it. Motes of light effervesce from the undulating surface, sparkling like a frozen winters morning. The scents of citrus and honeysuckle drift through the greystone workshop bounded only by pink-limned green pentagonal lines of energy on the cold floor. Rune-etched glass vials wait nearby. The time to decant has arrived.