"Yes, the source does impact the quality. Everyone is different. So is the magical potency of their blood. Some cannot get much use out of it, even if they can call on powerful magic just fine." He had theories on why that was, but no firm answers. Looking at her now, he felt morbidly curious to which type she would belong. "And it is always easiest to work with your own. Although some creatures are known to have very potent abilities tied to their blood. This came from a dragon," he said and nodded towards the pit on the floor.

Samuel observed with much affection her curiosity and her insistence to be unbothered by the brutality and inherent violence. He watched the pride of her bearing, as she looked around the realm of his past. Irrationally he thought, that if anyone could renew what it all meant, it was her. Or was he thinking about himself, instead of this place? If she went along with him the dark ways too, how would they change? Maybe it would start to make sense. It had so far all been for nothing; for duty and money, for trying to mend something that could not be mended; it could only be dismantled. All his creations he abandoned to the undeserving.
"What fuels me? My blood? It ought to."
He grinned. "There is more to this place, upstairs. But that is just where I lived my ordinary life. Nothing very exciting."

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