Apothecary Diaries Ch 1 Novels & Stories

Henry’s POV The morning sun was just a pale glow on the horizon when I slipped into the apothecary’s workshop. Shelves lined with jars of petals, roots, and odd ingredients beckoned me. After last night’s revelations, shadow beasts, corrupted runes, venom in my blood, I needed more than steel. I needed magic.

"It's as if hidden messages are waiting to be discovered." Sophia's curiosity reignited at Becky's observation. Hidden messages... Perhaps her grandfather had embedded secrets within the diary itself, waiting to be unveiled. With newfound determination, Sophia carefully examined the pages of the diary, holding them up to the light and gently rubbing the pages in search of any concealed clues. Her actions elicited puzzled looks from Benjamin and Becky, who watched her with a mixture of confusion and intrigue. Then, a revelation struck Sophia like a bolt of lightning. She noticed that each chapter in the diary began with an underlined capital letter. Excitement surged through her veins as she

Sweat gathered at my temples and Cobwebs clung to my sleeves. The air smelled of cardboard and time. I pushed aside old picture frames, college notebooks, and broken electronics. “Where is it?” I whispered to myself. Box after box, I searched. My fingers were sore and my back ached but then I found it. A navy-blue leather cover…Worn at the corners. The pages sticking out a little from the sides. My diary. I sat on the cold floor, back against the wall, and opened the first page. It was mostly silly things at first.

Dear Diary, I’ve decided to keep a book recording all my days here at High Hill, should make pleasant reading in the future! Well, let’s start with the basics. I’m Gabriel; surname’s irrelevant as I’d rather not link myself to my parents. I’m 15; average height, wavy mousey brown hair, hazel brown eyes, and I’ve just arrived on my first day here. My parents sent me here because apparently public school isn’t good enough for me. But the reason they don’t know is that my parents would rather not have a son like me around them, snobbish twats. I’m just not good enough for them because I’m gay... Oh yes, did I not mention, I’m gay...and single... and full of a house with lots of boys in it. Oh b

“Choked on air.” Aislen smirked. Their turn came and the receptionist looked up expectantly as they leaned over the counter. “Baby Book?” “There’s a book?” Aislen blinked. “I have a book,” Heath said, frowning. “About babies.” “The one your GP gives you,” the receptionist was patient. “Your GP did give you a Baby Book didn’t they?” Aislen shook her head. The receptionist nodded wearily and reached under the desk producing a blue diary. “This your first appointment?” She asked opening the diary.

“I don’t happen to have a safe, Tony.” I blinked as he turned and handed the pages to me. “Here. Take a look for yourself.” He didn’t make a grab for the potion as I took the pages. My gut turning. I wanted to be skeptical, but the pages looked… official. The first was a registration page very much like a college’s. I didn’t recognize the codes or the class titled, but the information all made sense. The page beneath it was a prescription page. I frowned. “Yellow Ridge Hospital.” I looked at him. “How… long have you been going there?”

At once, I saw something that could speed up our process with the cyaxin antidote. I quickly pulled it out, scanning the contents. I nodded, satisfied with it. I pulled out a few more books about rare plants and poisons that weren’t in the books I'd read in our pack. Then there were a few more books about healing, which I didn’t hesitate to take. There was also a thick leather book in the farthest corner. It was a journal of an unnamed Healer and innovator who chose to hide their identities for their own safety. There were notes of their few inventions that were lost to time, as well as unfinished projects. Written in it were the trial and errors and what could have been done, the repeated f

Something that did not involve power, or demons, or expectations I did not understand. Carefully, I opened the book. The pages were aged, their edges softened with time, the ink slightly faded but still clear enough to read. The scent of it was faint but comforting, something old and steady, untouched by everything that had changed around me. My eyes moved across the words slowly at first, taking in the details of herbs I had never seen before, their properties described in careful, deliberate writing. There were notes on elixirs, on how different combinations could heal, soothe, strengthen, or restore.

"'The relics,' he says, Eyes wide, I nod, reaching for the chalice and cross, laying them on his stomach. I stroke his cock fast at them. His hips buck and he cums hard. Thick ropes shoot out, he spits, the silver chalice splashing. white streaks on the gold cross. It pools on the cloth. More spurts hit my hand-hot, sticky-dripping down the sides. I drain him dry, from base to tip, watching as the last drops fall upon the holy items.

She realized she'd probably been tricked. She had seen Zac's symptoms clearly these past few days—completely drained, unable to lift a finger, panting after a few steps. But the day I "received my diagnosis", I had stormed through the house swinging things around with endless strength. I didn't look sick at all. The moment she realized that, she rushed to call me—only to find she had long been blocked.