Walking over to the bookshelf, you pop open the tome on explosive potions somewhere near the center, hoping to be blown away by what you find.
My students, on this long, hard journey, we’ve seen potion upon potion that makes things scatter and combust with more color and variety than 7 sonic rainbooms. To name a few:
But alas, my students, there is one spell that I have thus far chosen to hide from you. So unique in it’s effect that it deserved it’s own chapter. But what is this you may ask? An Implosion Brew.
Allow me to elaborate: a normal potion from this book causes something explosive--something that moves outward. This potion moves in, and make no mistake, it is not to be trifled with. By drinking this potion, a pony’s very body will fold in on itself. Compressing and crunching and squishing together so hard until it is but a fleshy ball, then disappear entirely. The experience is understandably painful, but the ponies in question always come back unscathed 30 seconds later--likely gone in Etherium. The ingredients are as follows:
You’re not at all surprised by all the imaginative (and slightly gory) images that come to mind after having read that passage, but you’d sooner avoid images of other ponies suffering. You shut the book, a tad too chilled by what you just read, but still fascinated by Etherium and it’s magic. You place the book back in it’s place on the shelf and hear the thunder roar on again, but it doesn’t quite scare you anymore. Not like it did a short while ago, now that you’ve refreshed your brain with some quality nonfiction.
You scan through for a new book--something that will interest or inspire you--but none of them seem like they’re up to the task. None except for one, of course.
A murky black book in the corner.
A book you know all too well.
>Read the black book.