Hidden Apothecary

Hidden Apothecary smells like spicy patchouli, saffron, and forest berries

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Mistress Of The Mortar

The room was warm and low-ceilinged, lit by oil lamps and the flickering orange of a wood stove set into the stone wall. 

Shelves bowed under the weight of jars, wreaths, and veiled flasks—some glowing faintly, others labeled in forgotten tongues. Overhead, bundles of dried herbs hung like a canopy: mint, yarrow, thornroot. 

The counter near the hearth was cluttered but careful—ringed with burn marks, oil stains, and the outlines of old spellwork. 

She looked up from behind it. Gods. I forgot how to speak. 

She was beautiful—not delicately, but dangerously. Dark velvet eyes. Silver hair, braided and pinned with bone. 

Robes of emerald silk that caught the light like moss in moonlight. 

“Broken ribs,” she said before I could. “Two, maybe three. Cursed blade. Sit.” I sat. She moved like smoke and honey, already reaching for the ingredients. 

“You should see the other guy,” I managed. She didn’t laugh. She smirked. 

“Darling,” she said, “they always say that. And they always limp in here looking worse.” The counter beneath her pulsed faintly, old spellwork waking up. 

Magic settled—not flared—warm and steady, like hands pressed to your skin when you’re shaking too hard to breathe. 

She reached for a fresh bowl. 

Measured saffron—golden, pungent. 

Dropped in forest berries, dark and dense. 

Then came a shaving of spicy patchouli bark, edges curling like flame-touched parchment.

She began to grind—slow, methodical, the pestle circling with quiet precision. As the mixture broke down, it shimmered once, the scent blooming into something deep and warm: firelight, sweet fruit, and old earth still steeped in spellcraft. 

I couldn’t tell if the heat in my chest was her magic—or just her. She dipped her fingers into the bowl and pressed them to my ribs—gentle, sure. 

Her touch was fire and balm, clove and smoke, steady as breath. And when it was done, she leaned in close. 

“All better,” she murmured. 

“But if it aches again…” 

Her smile curled like smoke. 

“…you know where to find me.”

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