Lost Apothecary Novels & Stories

Diane usually kept it locked, but she was busy collecting bowls, and the door had been left ajar. I slipped inside sideways. Jake followed and pulled the door shut behind him. The shelves gave up their secrets at a glance — old cardboard boxes, moldy toolkits, empty parts bins. Jake went down the row, digging through every box. "Empty." "This one too." He crouched to check the last box, flipped the lid open, and an old newspaper spilled out. He looked up at me, his face twisting into a stiff, forced smile. "Maybe the stamp really was just a factory error—"

My name is Aubrey James, I grew up in a place where I never wanted to be. A place that I can never call a home, where I only exist as everyone's chess piece and a bargaining chip. A place where I was never seen as a human but a tool, a tool they can use for their profit and I'm nothing but a living doll.

Before he could say anything more, he watched Katherine collapse on the floor with a loud thud. A/N: Hey Readers!! First of all, sorry for not updating the chapter yesterday. I wanted to give you regular updates this week too but sadly, both my books, 'His lost love' and 'Doomed to love you' were stolen and illegally published on a pirate app Solnovel. I had a hectic day, informing my Editor, talking to my fellow authors and sending emails to those cheap apps.

It could talk since I had recorded my voice: “Sammy, what are you up to? I miss you. When are you coming home?” However, the batteries had long since died. The toy had been lost during our move at twenty-eight and was never thought of again. I set it down gently on the bed. Alongside it, I also left behind my twenty years of love. Then I picked up my suitcase and walked out of the villa, never looking back. From that moment on, this place had nothing to do with me anymore. … After dealing with Alisa, Sam woke up early the next morning. He drove all the way to a market in the city, just to buy the egg burger Hazel had talked about.

It was an opportunity Athena couldn't ignore. One moonless night, shrouded in darkness, Athena crept towards the apothecary. Her agile form moved silently, every step calculated to avoid the guards' patrols. With nimble fingers, she picked the lock to the storehouse, slipping inside like a ghost. Rows of vials and jars lined the shelves, their contents illuminated by the faint glow of a single lantern.

Waiting until the tram leaves, I look around before proceeding to the exit and taking a sharp turn toward the apothecary. The alley is partially lit by the overhead sun, the museum casting the stone walls in shadow. A small alcove built into the neighboring building advertises, “Apricot’s Apothecary,” in bright gold letters. Raising my hand to knock on the brightly painted wooden doors, my hand pauses inches above the blue veneer. Hanging from a brass handle is an old-fashioned hand-scribed sign. “Closed for brunch. Opens at 1” Three hours. That’s a long time to wait. Looking around, I consider my options. There is plenty of other places I can explore around here, I might as well make the be

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.

The silver flames of the pyre had long since faded into the freezing night, leaving behind a profound, collective exhaustion that settled deeply into the bones of the Onyxclaw pack. Down in the lower levels of the keep, far from the howling winds of the crater, the newly expanded apothecaries offered a warm, fragrant sanctuary. The air here was thick with the soothing scent of crushed lavender, dried eucalyptus, and simmering honey. Dozens of glass vials and ceramic mortars lined the freshly scrubbed wooden workbenches, reflecting the soft, flickering light of the hearth.

"Every tincture, every draft, every single visit made to the lower-tier quarters in the last fortnight. Now." The head apothecary, a man who usually smelled of dried lavender and nervous sweat, scrambled to comply. We spent three grueling hours poring over the vellum sheets. I personally checked the inventory for Nightshade and Silver-dust—the counts were perfect, down to the milligram. I cross-referenced the names of every authorized healer and mid-level apprentice. Nothing.

So they had to rely on both legitimate and black market suppliers, buying small amounts here and there of different varieties and strengths, then guess at the appropriate mixture. So far, it had worked. “Do you have enough for tonight?” Leda asked, concern colouring her voice as she stared over her sister’s shoulder. “I think so. The Zack’s closed down their apothecary after their daughter was married an Alpha from the political region. The Alpha had bought them a pleasant place on the middle levels so they have retired. So I had to find a new supplier for the extra.” Cythia answered. “Who?” Leda asked, not so much because she minded but in the hopes that her sister would see how much leda v