Shisui Apothecary Diaries Novels & Stories

My hands hovered over labels burned into old pine: Battle Logs, Hybrid Case Files, Rogue Catalogs, Smuggling Artifacts: Class D+. I ran my fingers across the wood until one drawer stopped me cold. Written on it was: S/Artifact—A.P. #7A That made me curious. A.P. definitely stood for Ashen Pendant. I exhaled as I pulled the scroll free. It was older than the others, frayed at the edges, and sealed with a smear of dried wax. Unfurling it slowly, I scanned the text. Most of it was scratched out—either magically erased or burned by someone who didn’t want the information passed along.

My steps are slow and reverent as I enter, drinking in every detail. A broad wooden table dominates the center, its surface clear except for a leather mat and a marble mortar set to the side. All around it, elegant black shelves stretch from floor to ceiling, each one filled to bursting with neat rows of labeled jars, vials, and apothecary bottles. Dried herbs hang in fragrant bundles from exposed beams. Shimmering apparatuses... still, flasks, retorts, alembics... are arranged meticulously beside tiny glass droppers and rows of tincture bottles.