Polyluminescent Undulating Infusion (Black) sits in a petite glass capsule, a slender tear of obsidian liquid that breathes and shifts as if a shadow were tasting the air. The liquid moves in slow, living spirals, catching the light and bending it into a dance of onyx and embers, like a sleep-wetted tide pressed against a midnight pane. The surface feels cool and somehow velvet-soft to the touch, smooth enough to slide along a finger, yet with a stubborn weight that reminds you this is more than a toy. The label’s etched runes glow faintly, as if the bottle itself keeps a memory of the first hands that coaxed the glow into existence. It’s said that the infusion’s undulations are a map of a deeper current, a trace of creatures long vanished beneath the world’s quiet places. The Black variant, in particular, is whispered to hold a memory of night-born currents—the kind that curl around hulls, pull at sails, and mark confidants with a shared shadow. When you hold it up to the lantern, the black seems not to absorb light so much as bargain with it, offering a shimmer that shifts with your breath. In a world where steel and spell often speak in loud clatters, this tiny vial speaks softly—like a secret told to a trusted friend beneath a star-dusted awning. In the hands of artisans, this infusion becomes more than a pretty bottle. It’s threaded into the very fabric of gear, a quiet companion to armor and weapons alike. The infusion is imagined to braid its living glow into who you are wearing it: a subtle aura that hints at hidden depths, a reminder that the wearer’s path has crossed with something older, something patient. Practitioners of the old windowless workshops say the Black version is particularly prized for its temperate, night-schooled sheen—perfect for those who move through crowded markets or moonlit coves without shouting their presence to every passerby. Players value it not only for cosmetics, but for the story it suggests—a mark that your character is someone who has traded in quiet power for something more enduring than a single fight. Market whispers pull the infusion toward the edge of rarity. Seldom do you find it in a casual stall; more often it rides a messenger’s cart, slipping through the notice of casual buyers and landing in the hands of collectors who prize both lore and light. Pricing drifts with the mood of the market, the day’s bargaining energy, and how many tales a particular seller has to tell about the infusion’s origin. It was at the Saddlebag Exchange, a corner of the market where stories drift with the wares and the coins are weighed with care, that I first heard the old rumor: a Black Polyluminescent can path a buyer toward rarer inks and rarer alliances, if you’re patient and lucky enough to recognize its quiet invitation. So the Polyluminescent Undulating Infusion (Black) remains, in the end, a story you wear as much as a piece you own. It glows when you need it to glow, it cools your steps when you want to disappear, and it whispers of currents and covenants long after the doors have closed and the lanterns have guttered out.