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CHAPTER 1

Mei

I stood amongst shelves laden with jars of dried herbs and bundles of fragrant roots, the air thick with the scent of earth and the subtle tang of magic. Gracefully I moved beneath the watchful gaze of the hanging plants shimmering with a faint luminescence, my hands deft in their purpose.

With meticulous care, I selected a handful of petals from a Moonbloom, a rare flower that glowed beneath the moonlight and was known for its potent healing properties. The room filled with its sweet, calming fragrance as I painstakingly crushed it into a pasty substance. Beside me a small cauldron simmered over a low flame, its contents a vibrant, swirling azure—a mixture of rainwater collected during a lightning storm and the essence of Starleaf, a plant harvested at midnight when its magic was strongest.

A sudden stir in the air made me pause as the apothecary’s usual quiet hum shifted, vibrating with a new, unfamiliar energy, like the change in the wind when a storm was about to break. Recognizing the magical pulse beckoning my attention, I rested the pestle against the side of the mortar as I tuned my senses to the change.

Our enchanted apothecary with its abundance of charms and magical herbs possessed an array of power—most familiar, but there were also several hidden pockets that even after a lifetime of study I still didn’t understand, evidence that the apothecary that had been entrusted to my family’s guardianship for generations still had secrets it wanted to protect. I studied this new invisible sensation rippling against the air; though I had spent countless hours amongst these shelves and knew each magical resonance by ear, this one was something entirely new.

I slowly scanned the apothecary’s dimly lit interior, my gaze slipping over the familiar rows of jars and bundles of herbs, each tied with strings of various colors denoting their properties and potencies. My father had taught me the language of each tie, a visual chant that spoke of healing, warding, and enchanting. As a child, I would run my fingers over each one, feeling the magic pulse like a heartbeat beneath my touch.

A faint glow cast from some unknown source suddenly shimmered across the neatly organized plants. With cautious steps I ventured deeper into the apothecary, past the counter containing vials of extract arranged in neat rows, their contents glistening faintly. The air grew denser, the magical current stronger as I approached the back of the apothecary; I felt a tingling sensation as I realized where the glow was leading me. There—forgotten amongst old scrolls and dusty bottles—was the scry pool, unused since Mother’s death.

Carefully I pulled back the cloth covering it and unveiled the pool, leaning over to stare into its inky depths. Its surface was still and opaque, reflecting no light. Yet as I watched, a mist began to form above the water, swirling slowly as if waking from a long slumber. Nearly faded memories of Mother bending over this very pool—her face alight with visions—flooded over me, causing me to hesitate. She had been a master scryer, her powers reputed to reach into the very fabric of the future. After her death several years ago, the magic here had lain dormant, as if grieving alongside the family she had left behind.

Though I’d spent my entire apprenticeship failing to manifest that same power in a desperate effort to forge some connection to the mother I fiercely missed, I couldn’t help but lean forward to peer into the pool. At first the water remained dark, but my breath caught as it began to shimmer, as if responding to my presence.

Whispers filled the room, voices so faint that at first I wondered if I’d imagined them. But then a clear yet chilling vision coalesced on the surface: I recognized our picturesque village, but a dark cloud loomed over it, tendrils of shadow stretching towards our apothecary, threatening to consume it and all the precious charms it contained.

A deep and resonant voice accompanied the vision, a foreboding echo throughout the cramped room that seemed to resonate through my body. “Beware, guardian of the grove, for shadows seek the heart once more.” Its message imparted, the words faded and the pool stilled.

A chill crept down my spine as I drew back, mind spinning. The scry pool’s cryptic warning seemed to speak of danger, not just to myself but to the legacy my family had protected for generations. My mind raced with a confusing swirl of color and indiscernible images, possibilities about what the warning could mean and how I might safeguard the balance my family had always preserved. Whatever this new threat, the scry’s magic had awoken for a reason.

Father’s approaching limping footsteps tore my thoughts away from the puzzle. I turned just as he entered the room, greeting me with his usual kind smile. His brow furrowed upon noticing the uncovered scry pool I stood in front of. He stared a long moment before lifting his eyes in silent question.

I deliberated—wondering if I should confess the strange occurrence that would only worry him—but deceit was not a habit I practiced, especially with my beloved father. “The scry pool awoke.”

His dark eyes widened in astonishment. His gaze darted back towards where the pool lay dormant once more, as still and silent as it’d been for years, without any sign of the strange message it had just imparted. “What did it reveal?”

I had mulled over the words so many times already they were ready on my lips. “Beware, guardian of the grove, for shadows seek the heart once more.”

As I feared, worry lined his wrinkled skin. “A warning, making me fear that the magic we protect is in danger.”

I remembered the vision that had accompanied the foreboding words of infringing shadows stretching their inky reach towards the apothecary. Constant darkness had encroached upon our kingdom of Lumeria for years; only recently had it been dispelled through the marriage of the king to his new queen, whose affinity for light magic had restored the sun to the land for the first time in two decades.

Though the constant darkness that had once roamed the kingdom was now only a memory, every shadow still haunted me; I struggled to endure each night, even with the soothing charms I concocted out of lavender and a dash of magic.

If the cursed shadows had returned…fear seized my chest and I shuddered. “Are the scry pool’s revelations literal or symbolic in nature?”

Father heaved a weary sigh. “I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with this type of magic; the training passed down through our family specializes in the enchanted herbs we grow and the potions we concoct, as well as the guardianship of our legacy.”

If only Mother were here. I always felt her absence keenly, unable to grow accustomed to the void left behind upon her death, even after all of these years…but the uncertainty within the area she had specialized made her absence all the more unbearable.

Bitterness tightened my throat and stung my eyes, the sharp edge of regret refusing to dull no matter how much time had passed. I couldn’t escape the haunting thought that Mother’s death might have been avoided if only we’d been able to cultivate the healing herbs that could have saved her—herbs the cursed darkness had made impossible to grow as it smothered the land and robbed it of life.

If only she’d been able to hold on just a little longer until the light returned…but unfortunately no amount of magic or wishful thinking could change the past. The only thing I could rely upon was my own magical knowledge instilled in me through years of dedicated training. Though the cryptic warning weighed upon my heart, the answers remained elusive; all I could cling to was the situation at hand.

Father’s raspy breath diverted my worry to his condition, one of the subtle signs he gave when he thought I wasn’t looking, indicating that he was in pain. My heart cinched in the familiar, constant worry that he was in danger of dying and leaving me alone. His poor health was far more pressing than whatever ominous warning we’d just received.

I motioned to the nearby empty chair. “Take a seat and rest. I’m almost finished with your medicine.”

Father groaned. “You have more important matters to concern yourself with than me.” For all of his usual complaints he obediently sat in the rickety seat near the hearth, beads of sweat on his sallow skin.

I made sure he was comfortably settled before returning to the herbs I’d been working with before the apothecary’s enchanted communication had diverted my attention. Drawing a breath to steady myself, I took up the mortar and pestle so I could resume the healing tonic.

I reached for the familiar dried herbs and roots hanging above my workstation, each with a specific purpose known only to those trained in the ancient arts of herbal magic. Humming an old melody Father used to chant while working his own spells, I added the Moonbloom petals to the brew. Bubbles popped on the surface as it turned a deep, iridescent purple.

I stirred the potion with a slender spoon carved from the wood of an ancient Whispermint tree—clockwise to draw in health, counterclockwise to banish ailment. My eyes closed briefly as magic pulsed through me, guiding my hands. I whispered the familiar incantations, my voice soft but confident, invoking the healing spirits that my family had revered for generations. The air shimmered around me—motes of light dancing in the space, drawn to the potency of my spell.

The liquid hissed softly and turned a soft rosy color as the spell concluded. I opened an intricately carved bottle and poured the tonic inside with practiced movements. The potion glowed within its new home, ready to heal wounds beyond the physical….for in this magic-filled apothecary I was not merely an herbalist but a keeper of ancient secrets, a guardian of a legacy that healed not only the body but the soul as well.

I handed the completed potion to Father, who took it with a calloused hand. The bottle glistened as he lifted it to the light to examine its contents. His critical appraisal softened and his proud gaze met mine. “You’ve come a long way, Mei.”

His praise partially eased the anxiety constantly brewing beneath the surface. The lengthy curse that had eclipsed the sun had made it impossible to grow our enchanted herbs, which had limited my training to book knowledge, resulting in my practical knowledge being severely lacking. Even after the light had been restored, I’d balanced catching up on my practical instruction with helping Father reinstate the apothecary after its neglect beneath the darkness that had shrouded the kingdom.

My pride in my accomplishment was short-lived, eclipsed by my lingering worry. No matter how much I developed my skills, they never seemed to be enough—I could alleviate the discomfort from his symptoms, but never discover the cure itself; I could only watch helplessly as his health slowly deteriorated.

I motioned for Father to drink and he uncorked the bottle with his usual reluctance. I hovered over him and watched as he lifted the vial to his lips, but before he could even take a sip the bell above the apothecary door jingled—a usually welcoming sound that now seemed ominous.

I walked towards the front of the shop as a rugged knight clad in Lumeria’s royal colors stepped inside. Behind him—casting a long shadow in the doorway—stood a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed man with a presence as commanding and unnerving as the vision I had just witnessed.

A flutter of attraction momentarily robbed me of my voice before annoyance hastily squelched the ridiculous emotion. I looked pointedly at the sign turned to Closed before directing my glare to the intruders. “My father isn’t seeing anyone today.”

My forceful tone drew the intruder’s gaze, sharp and assessing. “I must speak with the owner of this apothecary concerning a matter of great urgency regarding the kingdom.” His tone was calm and authoritative as he stepped forward, leaving no room for argument. Behind him the knight shifted, clearly uncomfortable being the bearer of inconvenient demands.

This wasn’t the first time we’d hosted unwelcome visitors lured by the promises their imaginations concocted about what our apothecary’s enchantments could cure. I crossed my arms. “I am temporarily in charge. Whatever business you have you can conduct with me.”

The intruder arched a single dark brow as his gaze flickered over my petite stature. “As… capable as you appear, I’m afraid my orders were to speak to the proprietor, not his rude and uncooperative assistant.”

Indignation rose, but before I could unleash the well-deserved tirade burning my lips, Father emerged from the back room, leaning heavily on his cane. Despite his pallor, his eyes shone with a stubborn determination that I knew all too well.

“Whatever business you have with me, you will treat my daughter with respect.”

The intruder surveyed me with blatant dislike—as if deliberating how much politeness I warranted—before finally offering a slight bow, an inadequate apology that didn’t extend to words, as if his pride didn’t grant me the courtesy. He turned his back to me to address Father.

“I am here as a representative of the royal family of Lumeria with a matter of great urgency: we are seeking your assistance in participating in a quest, whose nature is a matter of utmost secrecy that cannot be divulged.” He cast me a sharp look, a silent order for me to grant them privacy.

Instead of obeying, I stepped closer to Father and looped my arm through his before stubbornly lifting my chin, daring this stranger to force my departure.

His mouth thinned. “You misunderstand. This isn’t a request, but an order from your king.” He withdrew a missive bearing a royal seal, which Father shakily accepted. Curiosity as to its contents burned and I impatiently watched Father read it, his expression growing grimmer with each line.

When he finished, he slowly refolded the letter and tucked it away before sighing in resignation. “I understand and will join this quest.”

I lurched forward. “Father, you can’t!”

“Mei.” Father turned to me. “Personal desires have no place in my duty to obey a royal order. It has been decided.” Though his eyes remained loving, they glistened with unwavering resolve that I knew no amount of protest would shake.

Ever stubborn, I made to argue, but the odious intruder silenced it before I could even form the words. “Forgive me, but I failed to conduct the proper introductions that will make it clear that I will not take no for an answer. I am Prince Darcel of Lumeria.”

His bow was proper, but he offered it with a challenging air, as if fully expecting me to trip over myself in a show of groveling apology. However, royal blood did nothing to change my mounting dislike towards him or my need to defend my father; instead it only raised my guard.

My cold look didn’t change. “I expected a member of the royal family to be in possession of manners.”

Father’s breath hooked in horror at the insult and the prince’s disdain became aghast. “You are the most improper woman I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

Propriety was of little concern to me at the moment; a prince’s approval was meaningless in comparison to my father’s well-being. “I am not just going to stand silently by and allow you to bully my father. He’s ill and much too frail to be dragged into whatever secret quest you’ve concocted, and I refuse to allow you to?—”

My defense was interrupted as Father wobbled forward. “I appreciate your concern, Mei, but I need to go.” His weak voice was firm.

Helplessness pressed against my chest, making it difficult to wrench my desperation from my throat. “But you’re in no state to go on such a mission.” While I wasn’t privy to the details of the quest contained in the royal missive, I had no doubt it would be dangerous if it required the services of a magical herbalist, even one in a poor state of health.

“The cost of being the guardians of the spells housed in our apothecary is to use them for the benefit of others,” Father stated. “I cannot break that sacred vow for my own selfishness now.”

“But no help can come at the cost of your own well-being.”

He sighed. “There is no other option.” I heard the words that remained unspoken—I was currently too inexperienced to take his place, leaving no one else to fulfill the royal charge. I felt paralyzed by my own inadequacy.

“But you’re not well. You can’t?—”

“It is my duty, daughter.” His gaze shifted to the prince with a respect that I couldn’t fathom. “I am at your service, Your Highness.”

I was exhausted from the fight, but though I’d already lost to my father’s usual stubborn determination, I couldn’t resist one final effort to the unsympathetic royal. “Please reconsider. My father can barely withstand a day’s travel, let alone whatever you need him for.” My voice was pleading now.

The prince turned his full attention to me, his gaze unsettlingly perceptive. “You certainly are stubborn, but I’m afraid no amount of fight will persuade me to change my mind. I assure you that your concern is noted, but your father’s knowledge is too crucial to embark on this quest without his expertise. We will take every care to ensure his comfort and safety.”

His reassurances did little to soothe my fears, but there was nothing more I could say. My father had made up his mind, and the prince was not a man to be swayed.

My reservations stemmed deeper than simply allowing Father to embark on a strenuous quest. The idea of entrusting him to the care of Lumeria’s suspicious prince made my stomach clench. Whispered gossip among the townsfolk spoke of his exploits, even sinister rumors that he had some involvement in the cursed darkness that had devastated our land. Furthermore, it was said he was a man who wielded his power like a sword, cutting through opposition without a thought for the consequences. Should any of these whispers prove true, my beloved, fragile father would be treated as a stepping stone for the royal’s ambitions.

The prince looked around the apothecary—not with the innocent curiosity I had witnessed from most of our clients but with a shrewd, almost calculating look, as if he was searching for something. My misgivings grew. His sudden interest in an aging herbalist reeked of hidden agendas…and after the recent warning from the scry pool, I feared he somehow knew of the apothecary’s secrets. Dread flooded through me as suspicion grew that this quest was nothing more than a guise to get his hands on the ancient spell we guarded. Father was trusting by nature and could easily have his knowledge exploited.

A sudden idea inspired one final effort to fight against the unfolding injustice. I squared my shoulders and evenly met the prince’s eyes. “Why not take me instead? As Father’s trained apprentice, I can serve your needs on this quest.”

The prince studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “This mission requires his specific expertise.”

“But he's not strong enough for travel,” I pressed, my voice tight with barely contained frustration. “I am capable, and I can provide whatever you need from him.”

The prince shook his head, his decision unwavering. “It isn’t just about capability—there are elements of this quest that require his personal insight. Your father has experiences that cannot simply be passed down or communicated secondhand. Your skills are undoubtedly valuable, but forgive me for saying that I doubt you possess adequate experience.”

I flinched at the attack on that tender point. I opened my mouth to argue further, but Father laid a gentle hand on my arm. “That's enough, Mei,” he said, his voice more stern than I had heard in years. “I have made my decision. Please respect it.”

I bit back a sharp retort, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. Out of respect for him—and certainly not for the prince—I nodded stiffly, finally conceding the battle.

Prince Darcel gave a curt nod in return and turned to leave, but paused at the doorway to glance over his shoulder. He watched us a moment, his expression unreadable. Though his dark gaze remained merciless, I detected a subtle softness that hadn’t been present before.

After a moment he approached me, his steps deliberate. I stiffened as he leaned closer, stirring the air with the musky but annoyingly alluring scent of his cologne. “Your concern for your father speaks of great loyalty and love,” he murmured, his voice low enough to remain out of earshot of my father.

His sentiment was inadequate against my lingering suspicion. I met his gaze as he withdrew. “Just ensure he returns as you take him, Your Highness.” His title tasted bitter on my tongue.

“I intend to.” With a nod that seemed both a promise and a dismissal, his hidden gentleness faded in an instant. With a final dark glower in my direction Prince Darcel turned to Father. “You are to meet us at the designated meeting spot in three days’ time.”

Without another word he departed, the door closed with finality behind him, leaving me alone with my suffocating helplessness in the apothecary surrounded by the smells and sights of my life’s work.

The dam I had built around my worries finally broke. “Father, please. With your poor health, pains, and frailty, this trip could…” I swallowed hard, unable to finish the thought.

He sighed as he reached for my hands, his gentle touch offering little reassurance to the fears plaguing my heart. “I know my own body, Mei, and I know my duty.”

“But there must be another way.” Desperation wrenched my wavering voice, grasping for solutions in a sea of inevitability.

Father shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and resolve. “We are bound by the king’s command and we must serve, just as our family has always done. This is something I must do—not just for the prince or the kingdom, but for the legacy we serve. You must trust that I have the strength to endure this.”

I looked into his familiar eyes that had guided me through every hardship and joy, and saw buried with his resolve an unspoken fear that mirrored my own. Yet there was also a flicker of determination, an inward strength that had not weakened with his aging body. I knew then that arguing further would only strain the precious time we had left together.

“Let me at least prepare something to help you,” I finally said. “Medicine to ease the journey and keep you strong.”

He gave me a small, grateful smile. “I would like that very much.”

The weight of the apothecary’s magic pressed close, whispering of changes and challenges to come. I glanced towards the room containing the scry pool, its warning echoing in my mind, now more ominous than ever with the prince’s shadow casting across my father’s stooped shoulders.

As he rested, I returned to my workbench and started assembling ingredients. My hands moved of their own accord, selecting herbs for strength, endurance, and protection. All the while, my mind raced, seeking any strand of lore that might offer another solution, a better way to protect him.

The magic’s sudden whisper caressed my thoughts, offering a drastic solution that caused me to still as I pondered. Resolve began to form, a plan to protect him even as it was fraught with risk and filled with its own dangers…yet I couldn’t turn away from the pinprick of hope it offered.

I knew what I had to do, even if it meant defying the prince. Though the consequences would be disastrous should I be caught, it was a chance I felt compelled to take—for Father, for our family, and for the secret legacy we were sworn to protect.

I would find a way to go on this quest in Father’s stead.