Lay, child, and I'll tell you the tale of the Sea War and its heroes. It was long before your time - more days than you could count. It all started with the Great Witch, Nevili, and a North-girl who had turned her cheek to the ways of her people. Some say, these days, Nevili would cast a spell on Her followers. Tales tell She'd never have one for very long, and after succumbing to Her will, they were never heard from again. But never mind that for now. Let the story begin, child. Now, where to start? Ah, of course. Sloegr! Certainly you've heard of Sloegr, the Great Witch's greatest creation, the potion that shaped these lands and brought on the deadly Sea War...

Violet eyes stared into a bubbling cauldron. Smoke from the purple fire that warmed it filled the small hut but none of the three creatures inside paid much mind. Mira Raven-Eyes stood closest to the pot. Her small nose was filled with the strangest scent. As hard as she tried to pinpoint an affiliation, she could not. It made her think of home while travelling her mind through unknown lands. It made her feel safe and terrified. It brought sadness and joy. It smelled like everything and absolutely nothing at the same time.

A pale woman with long, black hair emerged from the shadows to daintily add another handful of ingredients, only one of which Mira could immediately identify: a wilting violet. It disappeared to the bottom of the thin, clear brew. No matter how many things dissolved into the mixture, it didn't change viscosity or color. It reminded Mira of water but never, ever would she drink it.

Nevili and Mira had not ventured outside their hut in two months. Exactly sixty-three days ago, the first ingredient had been added: a fresh, lively violet.

"The last ingredient," Nevili spoke softly after she stirred the flower into the liquid. Her black lips were barely visible through the smoke in the room.

"Were those violets from the same plant?" Mira inquired quietly.

Nevili kept her unblinking eyes on the mixture and smiled, as if she was lost in the world that existed in her incomplete potion. "Observant," she responded. "Good girl. No, no. That was the same flower."

Although the apprentice witch had watched the first flower melt into the bare liquid on the first day, she did not question it. Mira's eyes lifted from the boiling creation to look upon her mentor. They wore the same clothing: black, hooded cloaks - to keep them invisible at night, Nevili said. They would never be welcome no matter where they went, Nevili had told her.

A stirring in the shadows reminded Mira that they had a guest. He was known as Kaala the Very Strange, a quiet hobgoblin who made his distaste for hobgoblin culture obvious through depressive moods and attempts to walk casually among man. He was so unlike his people that he had earned his title merely by existing. She knew he was eager to test the brew and was currently on the edge of his small stool.

"It's finished," Nevili spoke so softly it was almost quieter than the constant crackling of the fire underneath the cauldron. Kaala did not move a muscle. He would not dare until Nevili gave him permission to do so. "Come, hobgoblin," she demanded with a strong voice after she'd spooned the water-like brew into a bowl. She was careful to not waste a single drop. Finally the creature rose.

The only light in the hut came from the purple fire, but it was enough to clearly make out Kaala's features when he was close. He looked very much like every other hobgoblin Mira had ever seen, except he had a long scar on his thin bottom lip and it looked like it'd been split right down the middle. By an elf, she supposed.

Long, sticky fingers gripped the bowl. Mira was almost frightened to see how it would affect the creature, but she wouldn't advert her gaze. Both Nevili and her apprentice stared as Kaala slowly gulped the potion.

Before their very eyes he began to change. His body molded and jutted into new shapes as if invisible hands were pulling at his very existence. She couldn't make out his expression but Mira wondered if it was uncomfortable to be broken and remade, broken and remade like that. As they stared, he became something entirely different.

He grew taller. His skin brightened and soon it was almost the same shade as Mira's. His frog-like features filled out; his nose went from flat to jutting and his thin lips pillowed. When the apprentice witch glanced at her greater, she saw that they had the same expression: amazement. Nevili's eyes were wide and now Mira could see the green in them. Her lips were parted and slowly, ever slowly, a smile formed.

"I've done it," she whispered faintly. Nevili's eyes reddened and glazed over.

When Mira looked back at the hobgoblin, she didn't see a hobgoblin. His hair was full, thick, and brown. His eyes were the color of the sky in the small hours of the morning. His lips, a pale pink, parted in waiting. She continued to look him over. His fingers, once long and sticky, were shorter and wider. The only way she could tell he was the same creature was the scar that still marked his lip.

He looked undeniably human.

"I've done it. I've created the potion of Gods."

Tears streamed down Nevili's, Mira's, and Kaala's faces. The Great Witch stared right at her apprentice then. Her next words only forced more joyous emotion from the North-girl's eyes; she nearly burst into tears.

"It will be known as Violet's Eye. For you, my lovely follower. For you."