Lost Apothecary Novels & Stories

“Ma’am… that was the third major client this morning.” Sophia didn’t respond right away. Her fingers slowly tightened around the edge of her desk. “Say that again,” she said quietly. The assistant swallowed nervously. “They’re saying the company is collapsing… that our funding has been pulled… and that anyone who stays with us will suffer losses.” Sophia’s eyes darkened. “That’s ridiculous.” “I know,” the assistant replied quickly. “But the rumors are spreading faster than we can contain them.” Sophia turned toward the glass wall overlooking the office floor.

28 Sienna. There’s a rhythm to the apothecary I like best in the early hours. There were no customers, no clinking of bottles or awkward small talk. Nothing but the creak of floorboards and the quiet pulse of herbs straining through cheesecloth. Peace. Until recently, that peace had been dependable and predictable. Now it’s cracked.

Its glossy black exterior gave no hint that inside, it was fitted with life-support systems worth more than most homes in the city. Amara and Zogo, along with Jerald and Finn, climbed into a separate black SUV following behind. The convoy pulled away from the hospital, heading through winding roads toward the outskirts of the city. The destination…...the Old Apothecary Temple. A place whispered about more than spoken of, where dust-coated shelves groaned under the weight of centuries-old grimoires, and the scent of herbs…...some healing, some deadly clung to the very air. Amara had once studied there in exile, surrounded by secrets only a handful of living souls still knew.

“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 wouldn't do what needed to be done. I scrolled down to a number I had saved years ago, a number given to me by a shady merchant in the lower district. "The Apothecary." It was a code name for a witch who dealt in poisons. Poisons that left no trace. Poisons that could make a miscarriage look like a tragic accident. I hit dial. It rang twice before a raspy female voice answered. "What do you need?" "I need something strong," I said, my voice steady now. "Something that can get rid of a parasite. A very... strong parasite."