The Forgotten Home Apothecary Book Novels & Stories

The Apothecary Society had laid claim to the east wing, and it showed — delicate glass vials and pestle bowls were scattered across tables, herbs hung in bunches from hooks near the windows, and the smell of lavender, damp soil, clung to the air like memory. I lingered near a patch of nightbloom ivy, watching its petals unfurl toward the sunlight like it was some ancient ritual. A distraction — welcome, fleeting — from the low hum of voices behind me. Ingrid had vanished down one of the aisles, in search of what she so optimistically called “viable options,” leaving me momentarily alone, a guest at a gathering I hadn’t been invited to, and yet couldn’t seem to escape.

Harper never did anything by accident. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of sugar, bad karaoke, and jokes about me being too good for the hospital now. But that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I found myself sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, the book in my lap. The apartment was dark, except for the small kitchen lamp left on for Liam. I opened the book carefully, fingers trailing along the handwritten notes in the margins. Most of the spells made no sense to me. Herbs I’d never heard of. Symbols that looked half-alchemical, half-celestial. Then I saw it.

“Emily Moretti organized the accident, didn’t she?” There was a pause. Hesitation. “Yes. According to the trail I followed, three days ago your family’s drug shipment resurfaced at the Mexican docks. The person who received it was Emily’s half brother. He sold it almost immediately to a local gang.” I froze. “She has a half brother?” “Yes. Her mother remarried years ago and had a son. Emily contacted him about three years back.” “And let me guess,” I said, my mouth dry, “since then, a few things have gone missing from my family. Only to conveniently reappear in his possession.”

“You need to heal completely. After you've stopped feeling guilty, getting back your healing abilities is the next thing to do.” I step closer to her and take the old and dusty book in her hand. I read the inscription and it is “My Herbs Book.” It is a book where she wrote all the herbs formulation and it looks like she has just gone back to retrieve it from where she had abandoned it for years.

Questions. But one thing was certain. I would not walk into that room as the forgotten wife. And judging by the way he had looked at me that morning… He knew it too.

I've missed him. "Til Here We Find Ourselves Again, right?" he asked her, holding the lamp to light their way. "That's it," Avera agreed pleasantly. "Well, why don't we see if there's any remnants of order left here. I would think it's in the section on divine governance, but why don't you grab a lamp and we'll spread out," he cordially suggested. After a short time searching around the dusty bookshelves and scattered piles, Kelvin returned holding two books.

Harriet said she was fourteen and lived with her family on the outskirts of the village. Harriet’s area of interest was horticulture. In particular, flowers and herbs that could be used to create potions, tinctures, soaps and medicines. Harriet’s parents ran the apothecary shop on the main street and sold their creations to other members of the coven. Once a month, her father and older brother would take their surplus stock to the nearest human town, and sell it at market. They often received wholesale orders from human shops as well. She had been part of the family business her whole life.

He asked, "What do you mean?" Qin Shaoyang looked out of the window, where the wind had carried several dead leaves into the room. "Zuoqiu Que, a Level Four apothecary." Xiao Chen's heart sank. Naturally, he knew about apothecaries. He had heard quite a few stories about them from Gui Xian. High-level apothecaries not only could revive the dead but also possessed extraordinary pill concoction skills. Thus, in the Violet Manor, apothecaries were very well-connected. Many would rather offend an entire sect than offend an apothecary of Level Three and above.

It was a hand written book filled with scraps and notes, most of it was in such poor handwriting that I struggled deciphering many of the words but from what I could make out, this book or more journal, had belonged to our late Luna's ancestors. It was filled with tips on how to control the magic within, sketches of great mythical beasts and a tattered family tree dating back thousands of years. What captured my interest most was that the start of the family tree held no werewolves, only witches. It also became increasingly obvious that this book ended with our late Lunas mother. How is it that Elder Micha came to possess such a thing? Luna Talia couldn't have been the one to give him it if

As more flashbacks went over my mind, I hit my bed and finally opened my eyes. “Fuck this,” I said and removed the needles out of my body. Despite feeling weak, I walked out of the room and down to the hospital stairs. I’ve realized that I can’t live without Maia now and that it’s better to just forget the past. We’re already living in the present, so what’s more to ask for? I was about to walk out of the hospital, but I felt cold and thin arms surround my body. I turned around and smelled a familiar nauseating scent of perfume.