Witch's Cottage

Witch's Cottage smells like dry rosemary, dark saffron, earthy amber

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The Ledger And The Shard

The door whispered shut behind me, swallowed by vines. 

The cottage felt more like a forest than a home - dim and green-shadowed, walls thick with moss and old wood. Roots coiled along the ceiling beams like sleeping serpents. 

Dried rosemary bundles hung low from them, tied in black thread, their leaves flaking softly as I brushed past. 

A dusting of petals covered the floor like it had snowed indoors, and somewhere deeper, I heard dripping - steady, patient.

I moved carefully, clutching the sealed ledger tight against my chest. 

Its pages were warm now, as if aware. The words inside were hidden - bound by a charm that couldn’t be broken by spell or steel. 

Only amber, the witch’s amber, could unlock what the ink refused to show. 

If I didn’t find it here, the names would stay buried. And one of them was mine.

I crept past shelves overflowing with forgotten relics - eyes sharp, breath shallow. There wasn’t time to linger. The wards on the door wouldn’t stay dormant forever, and I had no idea how long the witch would be away. 

I just needed the shard. Then I’d be gone.

On the central table - curved and carved like it had grown rather than been built—saffron threads spiraled outward across velvet, looping through candle stubs, scattered bones, and a brass compass that spun slowly without being touched. 

Everything here was purposeful. Or cursed. Maybe both.

At the far end of the room, nestled between an herb rack and a hollowed-out cabinet, I saw it: a bowl of salt resting on a pedestal of twisted oak. 

Inside, a single shard of amber pulsed gently. It didn’t glow - it breathed. I stepped closer, heart pounding.

My fingers hovered over it when a voice spoke behind me, calm and ancient.

“Who are you, child?”

8oz Candle
Premium Coconut & Soy Wax
Extra Thick, Crackling Wood Wick
Strong Scent That Fills The Room
Luxurious, Frosted Amber Jar
40+ Hour Burn Time