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She thought for long moments. She knew she didn’t have any, but she tried to remember if she’d ever needed it before or if it was an ingredient in one of her medicine books.

“Now, missy. I know you keep a constant mental list of the contents in that home of yours, so you must not have it then. Because it is you, I will sell you a jar for half price.”

“I do not know if I need it, though.”

“I heard that it is hard to get a hold of and has apparent healing properties, if you believe in that sort of thing.” Although Darth didn’t believe he sold anything of magical value, Amalia knew better. “It also tastes like the sweetest honey you have ever tasted.”

Always an up-seller.Darth could rob a person blind if they stood in his shop with a heavy pouch of coin.

“You know I have a sweet tooth, you cunning old man. Fine, I will take a full jar of sapphire petals and half a jar of sun sap. Where does it come from?”

He took the single jar she’d brought with her and grabbed another, which she would have to pay for, from under his counter.

“Some place high in the mountains somewhere. It comes from underneath the bark of a certain type of tree that only grows at that altitude where the sun can always reach them. I do not know if I believe that story, but I think it is actually named because of the colour of it.” He placed the jars on top of the counter, and she exchanged coin for it. “There you go.”

She examined the golden yellow, thick liquid. Sure enough, it looked like pure drops of sunlight.

“Thank you, Darth. I will make sure to visit soon.”

“Careful out there, alright?” She perked her head up at his serious tone. “I heard some Witches are roaming these parts lately. You know what they can be like. Evil little wenches.”

“I will be fine. You worry too much.” She gave him a bright smile before placing the items in her carry basket.

Covering it with a piece of cloth to hide its contents, she left his shop.

Once a good distance away, she let that smile fall. Amalia didn’t believe Witches were good or evil, but the more harmful the source of their magic, the more corrupt they became.

Herbs, spices, plants - they were generally considered light magic. Anything that required death or blood was considered dark, and Amalia had drawn that line in the sand a very long time ago.

People often spoke about them in hushed whispers and had little information on them. That was beneficial for someone like her who just wanted to be left alone.

After obtaining everything she needed from the small merchant town, she raised her hand to her brows to check the location of the sun before heading home.

Horse-pulled carriages passed her much slower walking speed, and she made sure to stay off the dirt road to avoid being hit or shouted at.

Amalia didn’t particularly know how she felt about meeting other Witches. Just because of the overall hatred humans seemed to have for them, she didn’t know if she could trust them. Yet, the idea of being able to learn more magic made her so unsure.

She wanted to grow stronger, but she didn’t crave power like many of them apparently did. That’s all she really knew about them, though, since her mother had given her little information about her own kind.

All she was told was to avoid them unless she knew they were a light Witch.

With her lack of experience, how was she supposed to know the difference if she met one? She looked just like an average human unless she wielded her magic.

Perhaps I should keep my head down until I know they are gone.

Nobody bothered her as she made her way back through the town closest to her cottage. The two towns, Lacmain and Clagmore, were connected by the Dawnbrook forest. Her house and woodlands were on the other side of Lacmain.

The townspeople knew she lived there. It was built by her father who had been a high-ranking human soldier. He’d been given permission to build in the woods by the nobleman who ruled this town because he wanted a quiet life after the warring in the west was finished.

Unfortunately, after the last time he’d gone to fight, he’d never returned. There had been no quiet life for him to retire into. Still, her father’s respect outlived his life. She and her mother had lived there until one day she just up and left, too depressed by her husband’s passing.

Amalia had been heartbroken, but she knew how much her mother had loved her father. She truly believed their love expanded over time, and that they would meet each other in their future lives.

War plagued the lands to the west and south borders, and the Western King demanded every able body willing to fight. Although she was upset without her parents, it was what many of the people had to endure during these difficult times of war.

She wouldn’t dare pity herself when others were fighting to live just as much as she was.

Her parents had been hoping for her to marry so they could have their little cottage to themselves, but they never got the chance to. Instead, she now occupied it.