The Forgotten Home Apothecary Book 소설 & 이야기

Leaving the podium, I made my way back to my cabin where my car was parked, ready to head to Artichoke. Upon arriving at the store, which specifically caters to omegas, I strategically parked my vehicle close to the building, fully aware that I would be purchasing a significant number of items to transport back to my cabin. Upon entering the store, I immediately located a cart that was perfectly suited for my needs. Without wasting any time, I carefully selected the softest pillows and blankets available, keeping our little mate in mind with each item I chose.

Both young fairies grew up without their mother since they were born. “Bran, just let your friend take it easy for a while. Now, I must return to our realm.” Nurse Zella replies dutifully. “Young lady, can you handle the knowledge of what transpired here? If not, I would be willing to cast a memory magic.” Nurse Zella asks Jo directly. “I would not even dare choose to forget this madam. My best friend is in grave danger. If I could do anything to help her, I would. So, the answer is yes. I can keep a secret madam if that is what you mean.”

"You don't have much in your luggage either." Even my third brother Aden groaned in annoyance. "How stingy can Duke be? We three gave him plenty, but he can't even bear to get you food and clothes?" I couldn't help but laugh. "Those things are frivolous, so I'm not bothered to bring those back." Possessions, partners—if it stopped bearing consequence, they should be disposed of right away. Dad nodded, smiling adoringly as he tousled my hair. "That's right! Nothing matters now that you're home."

Just quiet. His car was spotless, the scent of pine and leather lingering as I buckled in. No evidence of the fight we had in it just two days ago. The apothecary sat at the edge of town, tucked between an old bookstore and a tiny café. Inside, it smelled of dried herbs, honey, and dust. Rows upon rows of tiny jars, labeled with what looked to be duct tape, lined the walls. “Feverroot,” I read aloud from the list.

"We’ll keep him secured." I was already running. The apothecary was tucked between a pawn shop and a tattoo parlor. It was a cramped, dimly lit space that smelled heavily of dried sage, sulfur, and old parchment. Floor-to-ceiling wooden shelves were packed with amber glass jars, hand-labeled tins, and ceramic crocks containing rare roots and preserved organs. Bundles of herbs hung from the rafters, and a thick coating of dust covered everything except for a heavy brass scale on the marble counter.

I repeated. “Indeed. One sent to that house every month. And yet, the owner of the house himself never knew about it. I suspect it must be some kind of drug, as it came from an apothecary.” “Really? Which one?” I asked again. “If I recall… I believe it was called the ‘Euphoria Apothecary’. Do you know it?” I grimaced a bit at the question. “Yeah. It’s a place that sells homemade medicine. Supposedly, at least.”

EMBER'S POV The apothecary is the kind of place you'd walk past a hundred times and never see. It's wedged between a shuttered tailor and a shop that seems to sell nothing but buttons, with a crooked green door and a hand-painted sign so faded I have to tilt my head to read it. Pennywort & Co. There's a little brass bell, and a window full of dusty jars, and a general air of a place that has not had a customer since the invention of electricity and would prefer to keep it that way.

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

Willow & Thorn Apothecary Inside, shelves overflowed with bundles of dried herbs, glass jars filled with colorful petals, medicinal roots, beeswax candles, and fragrant teas. The shop belonged to the Ashbourne family. To outsiders, they were nothing more than poor merchants trying to survive. Only they knew the truth. Magic flowed quietly through their blood. Not enough to attract attention. Not enough to earn power. But enough to keep old traditions alive. Ten-year-old Elara Ashbourne darted between the shelves with a basket in her hands. Her silver-brown hair bounced as she ran. "Elara!" her mother called from behind the counter. "You'll break something."