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Bigby,
When the battle is over, as Roderick and the others tend to the wounded, you and the others quickly realize that the “normals” haven't simply fled - they are gone. Even the corpses of the handful that were slain during the battle have vanished without a trace.
You find yourself in a ghost town - only the ghosts have left…
Eventually, when it is clear there is nothing else needed, you wander back into your shop - or rather, your father's shop. The rows of vials beckon and remind you of simpler times. Times before you had to worry about insane god- things intent on conquering the multiverse. Before dragons burned entire towns to find one man. Before the dismembered dead tried to claim you as one of their own.
A quick scan of the inventory reveals that your father had a fondness for the same core ingredients that you had. Not surprising, since you learned the basics of alchemy from him.
But then the incongruity of the potions in the back pushes its way back into your thoughts. How could he have made a potion of forgetfulness. You're not entirely certain how to make one yourself and your father never used more than simple cantrips designed to amuse people at parties. Was he a secret wizard? Or was he working with someone else?
Is this place even “real”? It is clearly a fiction manufactured by the gods, but the detail of its “reality” is so complete, it *must* have been based at least partly on the real world. But which parts?
With these thoughts muddling your mind, you meander back and forth between the back storage room and the front showroom, trying to decide where to begin your search for answers. The journals seem the obvious place, but the potions deserve a second look…
As you step back into the showroom one more time, you spot an empty vial on a center shelf under the main counter. At first, it seems like all the rest, but a closer look shows that it is a thicker, more pure glass. On the shelf above it (and about a foot to the left) is another, similar vial - but this one contains what appears to be a white liquid. Directly below it, on the floor shelf (two shelves down) is a third vial with a black liquid. A fourth vial to the left on the middle shelf seems to glow with an unnatural orange color and completes a diamond pattern.
You pull the empty vial from its shelf to get a closer look. While it stands only six inches tall, it has a heft that startles you. The glass is thick and flawless and its shape is perfectly symmetrical. As you hold it up to examine it closer, you notice a large rune faintly etched into one side. It is hard to read unless the light hits it just right, but you eventually identify it as the ancient symbol for “Water”. On opposing sides of the unstoppered mouth are two smaller (but more visible) etched runes for “Earth” and “Air”.
The white vial is next. Even though it appears to be full, it feels lighter than the empty “Water” vial. And what you took to be liquid is, in fact, either a rigid solid or some manner of uniform vapor. A rune on the side is the ancient symbol for “Life”. It is closed with a glass stopper and sealed with wax - or something like wax.
The black vial seems the obvious next one to inspect, but you hold off - fearing what it might hold. Instead, you grab the orange one. It is stoppered in a similar fashion to the “Life” vial and holds a tiny, flickering maelstrom of what appears to be concentrated fire. However, the vial itself is cool to the touch.
Then the black vial… With your mage hand power, you carefully pull it off the sheld. As you suspected, it holds the rune for “Death”. It is sealed like the two others and inside, the blackness is as unchanging as in the “Life” vial.
While it is difficult to see through the waxy seals, it appears that the three sealed vials also contain smaller runes for “Earth” and “Air” on their mouths.
As you puzzle over these mysterious vials, the door bell jingles. Into the showroom steps Laryn, the woman who had earlier asked about the potion of forgetfullness. But as she meets your gaze this time, you see none of the nervousnes or guilty that you saw (imagined) before. Instead, she has a slight smile as if she knows a secret that she is eager to divulge.
“Your father ran a nice shop, Bigby. The potion he sold to Laryn saved the life of the young Aramil. Without it, the demons of his violent origin would have ruined him.”
Your mind races back through your earlier conversation. You don't recall mentioning that you were in any way related to Dellpol.
“It is a shame,” she continues unimpeded by your confusion, “that nobody could help his uncle in the same way.”
She pauses briefly, but you hesitate before asking your first question.
“You'll need those vials later. Keep them safe. My sister will be able to help you once you are out of this cursed place.”
Her smirk changed to a grimace as she said those last words. And then she steps close to the counter and reaches across toward your face.
“You have something here,” she says as she smoothly wipes a finger across a spot in the center of your forehead. A small, warm trickle of water drips down the side of your nose as the constant pain (that you had almost forgotten about) subsides.
“What's in a name?” she asks. Your mind is muddled and uncertain. Was that a question directed to you?
The door bell jingles you back to reality. She is already out the door and moving quickly left toward the alley by the time you react to her final words. An answer, perhaps, to her cryptic question.
“Nobody knows.”
You lift the counter to follow her, and then notice behind you, under the door to the storage room, a fog seeping in.