Mithraditism [work] -

The healer brought out a tiny glass vial. Inside was a single drop of scorpion venom, diluted in goat’s milk. “Drink this each morning,” she said. “At first, you will feel ill. But over many moons, your body will learn to turn the venom into nothing more than a bitter spice.”

The rival fell to his knees. “How?”

Kael hesitated. “You want me to poison myself?” mithraditism

“I want you to teach your blood not to fear what would kill another.” The healer brought out a tiny glass vial

Kael lifted his sleeve to reveal the small scars on his arm—marks of a hundred tiny stings from the healer’s practice scorpions. “I let the poison teach me,” he said. “What destroys you in haste, you can befriend in patience.” “At first, you will feel ill

So he began. The first week brought chills and cramps. The second week, only a mild headache. By the end of the first moon, he felt nothing at all. Each month, the healer increased the dose—always just shy of deadly.