Everblight — Roleplayer Guild

So in my efforts to becoming a better writer I've decided to try and write small little scenes and really concentrate on my style, composition, pacing etc etc. Below is probably one of the best pieces I've ever written, I'm not boasting as I don't believe myself to be at a particularly high level, it's good writing compared to my usual I mean. I would like some comments etc as to where I should improve though, I don't feel like I've ever been particularly good at pacing, I remember entering the WOTM competition on the old guild and someone saying that the fight scene I had written was almost perfect however in parts it's going lightning fast and then it takes me 4-5 lines to describe a falling sword. Hopefully I've done well on that as I tried to get it right this time.
Whilst this probably isn't how I would RP (It's too much effort & concentration for something I consider a fun past time) I do want to know what my best is an at least try to improve for when that RP that comes along that I really like and I want to write as best I can for it. Anyway that's pretty much it, comments welcome and try to be be somewhat nice but ultimately truthful.

He who would swallow God

The flame flickered around the bottom of the glass vial, boiling the trapped liquid caught inside. Violent bubbling spat small unknown droplets of the from the vials neck, as they landed on the scared wooden table they instantly began to solidify to something harder than stone. The bottle was quickly snapped up and the flame extinguished by a wet cloth. "Ahh! hot, hot, hot!" The aged man quickly tipped the glass vial to allow the fluorescent fluid to flow out and into a dented bronze bowl. "Ah, thank the gods! I caught it just in time." he armed himself with an equally beaten spoon and got to work stirring.
"Master this is the third time you've left a vial to boil, any longer it would have been yet another wasted effort." the old man turned to his would-be apprentice, spoon in hand and bowl clung close by his arm.

"Not to worry my boy! we can always make more!" He exclaimed as a smile stretched from ear to ear.
His light-hearted jest was replied by a frustrated shake of the head "That's easier said than done. Do you know how long it took me to collect the ingredients?"
Carefully placing the bowl by the window the wrinkled tutor turned to face his younger counter-part once more, "Yes, yes, yes, and I appreciate it very much! you know I do." Waving his hands in disarray he spun on the spot and landed in his chair creaking its old joints and stretching the worn leather, it had seen better days.
I...I just don't want all of this to be for nothing, I want this to be our success, the time we finally figure this out!", the young apprentice started to work his way through the piles of dirty glassware burnt through constant use.

"Have you ever heard the story of Icarus?" the old man questioned, picking himself out of the chair to offer help.
"You mean the boy who made wings?" The old man nodded to him as he swilled out a flask stained green from its previous use.
"That's the one. His wings were made of wax and feather, his only dream was to fly but in his arrogance he tried to fly higher than he should."
The younger of the two gave out a quick sarcastic laugh "You cannot fly with wax wings, much to heavy."
A old hand slapped the ignorant student across his head, "This isn't a lesson in practicality, listen to its lesson. As he flew higher his wings started to melt, the young boy had flown too close to the sun, and as a consequence he fell back to the earth. You see, his own dreams ended him." His eyes narrowed, watching his students expression intensely as he dropped the cloth he was using.

Frowning in confusion the young man piled the glass vials and beakers on a drying rack. "I don't understand the relevance."
As quickly as a hawk would swoop, the old mans fingers had grasped his neck and dunked his apprentice's head into the sink of dirtied water. Muffled screams and splashing filled the room with an unsettling atmosphere.
"You see...my young boy.." he struggled to say his words whilst holding the boy, "Ambition can kill, dreams can kill. Not by themselves, but together. When men dream..." He pressed his neck deeper trying to ignore the flailing arm that was free, "...and they have the ambition to see those dreams realized, he makes himself a threat to us, to humanity, and to me." Limbs slowly started to tire, screams dulled. "You become an example, an idol, others learn that their dreams are attainable, they stop dreaming of what they want, and start taking what they want. The room stood still for a moment. As the old man let go the boys lifeless body slumped to the floor.
"With you the system fails, with you people believe in their own power and with you! will die freedom." He walked to the window ledge and picked up the bowl of steaming fluid. Pouring it on the boys body it instantly soaked into his skin, turning it a sickly black colour. "As far as your concerned, my little Icarus, I am the sun." Kicking at his dead corpse his skin cracked and his arm fell off entirely, he began to crumble like a weak stone. "And you flew to close..."

It was quite fun to write to be fair. Thinking about the subject a bit more I was thinking it that the old man in the story would actually be the mythological Greek architect Daedalus, and he constantly asked for new apprentices as he eternally searched for a boy to replace his dear Icarus as his son but as none can compare he ends up killing them.
Either that or it's an old evil alchemist that tells his apprentices his secrets trying to expand their minds hoping they will be able to invent or think outside the box for some breakthrough, after which he will kill them and take their ideas for his own making him a legendary alchemist in turn gaining more apprentices.

Anyway please tell me your thoughts and at the very least I hope you enjoyed reading it.

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