The Apothecary Diaries Chapter 1 Novels & Stories

I searched through all his properties then I froze when my eyes landed on a fancy diary. My hands skimmed over the surface and I opened it to find out that this wasn't just a diary but like a medical book with Descriptions of flowers, plants, and herbs with their disadvantages, benefits, and poisonous properties. Fascinated by my discovery, I shoved the book in my trousers and continued to search for the bracelet. I gave up since I couldn't find the bracelet and I sneaked out of his room, back to my room to go through the book. Was Pete ever a medical doctor?

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.

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.

There was a large table in the center of the room, with a cloth spread out and several jars of different liquids arranged neatly. Derek moved towards the table and saw an open book placed on it. The pages were filled with intricate drawings and descriptions of different plants and their properties. The ink on the pages had begun to fade, and some pages were torn at the edges. Derek picked up the book and flipped through it, trying to find something that could be of use to him. As he read through the book, he noticed the apothecary had made notes in the margins, detailing the combinations of herbs and roots he used to create different potions. Some of the ingredients listed were rare and hard

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.

" 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. I felt knives peeling my skin, flames burning me. I thought that returning back in time is more painful than going forward. I dropped to my knees, I'm coughing blood and I can see my skin on the floor, blood was all around. My sight is getting blurry. When will this pain

The invisible preparation becomes visible. He thought: all of it is still coming. He returned to work. End of Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen

"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.

“Apparently.” Seraphina smiled. “That’s why I always found you familiar.” The Book’s Warning The black book suddenly closed. Then it opened again. This time, the pages were turning rapidly. Page 1. Page 2. Page 3. Thousands of pages. Millions. Then the book stopped. A single sentence appeared. “THE FIRST DAUGHTER HAS AWAKENED.” Another line appeared. “THE FIRST MOTHER HAS REMEMBERED.” Then: “THE FIRST FATHER IS RETURNING.”

Midway through, a scent—cold coffee mingled with something metallic—rose from nowhere and the edges of my vision went soft. I sat very still, counted to five again, and whispered, “Not now.” Biology, uninterested in my schedule, did not reply. —End Chapter 4