Apothecary Diaries Ch 1 Novels & Stories

“I stumbled across something in it. It’s like a ritual, a ceremony. He claims it will heal the afflicted from vampirism. But the thing is, the page with the ceremony is torn in half. And the other half is missing. It’s an original edition—our library has it on loan—and our database shows no other existing copy. I need to see the other half of that page.” She paused, and a long silence followed. She hoped he’d have a solution. She knew that if anyone would, it would be him. He was her best and last hope. The silence went on so long, for a moment, she wondered if he’d hung up. Just as she was about to ask, his voice rang out:

He must know for sure now that she was lying. “It has your name in it. It is yours, right?” She nodded, surveying it. It was all there. She had forgotten about it. “There were some loose pages. I gathered them all up and put them back in. I hope I got them all,” he said. “You did,” she said softly, touched, embarrassed. “I followed the trail of pages, and the funny thing is….they lead me down the alley.” She continued to look down at the book, refusing to make eye contact.

"The chant you will say is different from the other. You chant this instead: To thee I bestow my soul, salvage my bane life back in time. I beseech thy salvation. I bestow my fornlorn life to eternity. Grant me your benediction Did you get it, Sam?" I just nodded, he gave me the diary, I clipped the paper and father closed the door. I closed my eyes, I was born in the 1720's. I started thinking the year and began chanting: To thee I bestow my soul, salvage my bane life back in time. I beseech thy salvation. I bestow my fornlorn life to eternity. Grant me your benediction At that a faint light covered me. At first it was warm then suddenly I felt an excruciating pain.

Just quiet. His car was spotless, the scent of pine and leather lingering as I buckled in. No evidence of the fight we had in it just two days ago. The apothecary sat at the edge of town, tucked between an old bookstore and a tiny café. Inside, it smelled of dried herbs, honey, and dust. Rows upon rows of tiny jars, labeled with what looked to be duct tape, lined the walls. “Feverroot,” I read aloud from the list.

“Let it watch. We’ve faced worse.” They found themselves before a small apothecary, its windows dark but for a single candle flickering in the depths. Aria pushed the door open, the bell above it chiming softly. The air inside was thick with the scent of dried herbs and old parchment, shelves lined with jars of powdered roots and vials of murky liquids. An old man stood behind the counter, his spectacles perched on the tip of his nose, his gaze sharp despite the wrinkles framing his eyes. “Welcome,” he said, his voice a rasp. “What brings you to my humble shop?”

He deserves it for not bringing me any breakfast. My stomach growls as I keep exploring my new room. There are books all over the place. I pull out A Healer’s Encyclopedia, A Collection of Diseases and Ailments, and A Compendium of Poisons from the shelves. One dusty book stands out to me. Experiments: Book One is scrawled in nearly unreadable handwriting on the thick spine. I flip it open to a random page. Wolves Healing Times is written in messy letters at the top of the parchment.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of herbs, spices, and exotic botanicals, creating an intoxicating blend of scents that wafted through the space. Rows upon rows of wooden shelves lined the walls, laden with jars and vials of every size and shape, containing ingredients both mundane and mystical. The apothecary seemed to hold a treasure trove of rare and fantastical components. A long, marble-topped counter extended the length of the room, where skilled apothecaries in embroidered robes had been meticulously mixing potions and elixirs in gleaming glassware.

"You didn't even notice me." Startled and curious to know more, I looked up. “I… have I studied this before?” He leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed. “You were passionate about it,” he replied, his tone soft. “You used to spend hours lost in these kinds of books, so much so that I had to drag you away to eat. You always had a gift for it. You wanted to be an apothecary.” The word struck a chord, resonating deep within me. “An apothecary…” I repeated slowly, feeling a sense of accomplishment and recognition for the first time in a while. “It feels… familiar. It feels right somehow.”

The apothecary opened his mouth even wider; he was speechless for a long time. Next, Darryl asked for a pen and paper from the person next to him and wrote a prescription. Then, he handed it to the apothecary. "Use this prescription. Give them to the Leader twice a day, morning and night. He will be completely healed in seven days." "Uh…sure." The apothecary took the prescription with trembling hands. His voice quivered a little in shock. "It seems that your medical skills are really good." Chaplin calmed down and gave Darryl a good look before asking, "Who are you?"

He spoke with quiet conviction, then turned to take his leave, but not before casting a fleeting glance at Ragaleon. The Apothecarium smelled sharply of herbs and smoke, a pungent, earthy scent that clung to every corner. Shelves lined the walls, sagging slightly under the weight of glass bottles and jars, each filled with liquids of every imaginable hue—murky greys, deep ambers, and translucent greens that seemed to glow faintly in the candlelight. In the center of the room, a large cauldron simmered over a bed of smoldering charcoal, bubbles rising and bursting in the thick, dark herbal mixture. Wisps of steam curled upward, carrying the bitter aroma of roots, dried leaves, and crushed bar