Page 1 of Myths and Manuscripts
Chapter 1
Willow
The soothing sound of Gran’s mortar and pestle filled our apothecary shop as I hung another fresh bundle of herbs from the ceiling to dry. Our garden was growing great this year thanks to the help of a mossmew family that had nested outside. The little cat-like creatures had mossy fur that absorbed water, keeping the air around them humid and the perfect temperature for plants.
One such feline was currently slinking through the shelves, chasing a beam of sunlight between the glass storage jars. I moved the jars aside, cupping the tiny mossmew in my hands.
“This isn’t the best place to play.” Her moss was so fluffy that my fingers easily got lost in it when she nuzzled against my hand. I placed the delicate creature inside a potted lavender plant, smiling as she nestled between the stems. “Thank you for helping our plants thrive.”
I moved away from the plant just in time to see Gran bending her wrists back and forth like they were sore. I glanced away so she didn’t accuse me of spying on her, but listened carefully when she started grinding herbs again. The once steady rhythm of her mortar and pestle had begun to falter as the ache of her many years of being an apothecary weighed on her. If she wasn’t careful, she’d overwork herself just like Grandpa had.Aging wasn’t easy, but stubbornly working long hours certainly didn’t help.
Every time I suggested she take a break, she’d work twice as hard just to prove how fine she was. It had only gotten worse after Grandpa passed away a few years ago. This shop was their dream and being here reminded her of him. I didn’t have the heart to tell her to give that up while she was still grieving, but she really should think about retiring.
I’d never seen somebody fall apart like she had after losing the love of her life. It terrified me. Love might be a wonderful thing, but I never wanted to feel the kind of heartbreak Gran did. I took a deep breath, inhaling the earthy scent of our shop. That smell had calmed me ever since I’d moved in with Gran after my parents passed away, helping her and Grandpa gather plants and mix medicines before I even knew how to write. Now it was my time to step up, to show Gran how capable I really was so she could rest after so many years of hard work.
“I can feel you staring.” Gran glanced over at me accusingly as she poured the ground herbs onto a set of brass scales. “What’s on your mind? And don’t you dare mention my age again.”
I winced. “Sorry, just daydreaming, that’s all.”
“Daydreaming, huh?” Her eyes softened. “Thinking about the book again?”
That damned book. I used to brainstorm stories with Grandpa all the time, but I’d never actually written any of them down. Not until the Tales and Tomes Festival last month. Gran had insisted I try it, to honor Grandpa’s memory and all that, but it hadn’t ended well.
I pulled a well-worn note from my pocket, staring at the story gods’ words once again:the story speaks, but the heart is silent.
How ridiculous. I’d been so excited when that note hadappeared on the surface of the book well, but the gods were practically mocking me. I’d put my heartandsoul into that book and they had the gall to tell me that the heart was silent? They could have just said they hated my book. I would have gotten over it. The only reason I even wrote the book was to make Gran happy.
“Come sit down and have some tea.” Gran motioned at the chair across from her. “If you’re still that worried about the note, maybe you should write another book for next year’s festival. See what the story gods say then.”
“No, that was just a one-time thing.” I stuffed the paper back into my pocket. “We’ve got a lot of inventory to do still, so I should–”
“Sit down.” She nudged my chair out as she added leaves to the teapot. “Whenever I decide to retire, and I’m not saying that’s anytime soon, the shop is yours. You don’t need to prove anything by working yourself to the bone.” She stared at me so intensely that I sank onto the chair like she wanted. “Honestly, I’m still not convinced it’s what will even make you happy. Just because it was my dream doesn’t mean it has to be yours.”
“But itismy dream. I love tending to our gardens, crafting medicines that can heal people in need, checking in with our repeat customers, all of it. This shop is my home and it’s my dream just as much as yours.”
I knew every nook and cranny of this place, from the gnarled and pockmarked wood of the worktable to the smooth wood of the stools that every member of my family had sat on. My grandparents had opened this shop before my parents were even born and they were supposed to take over before their accident. Now it was up to me.
“You don’t need to worry about me.” I reached for the teapot to pour us both a drink as the sweet and nutty scent of rooibos tea swept over us.
This kind of tea was often used to brighten somebody’s mood, a fact that was not lost on me at all. I smiled against my teacup as the steam curled around my face. Helping people was the part of the job I enjoyed the most, and Gran was an expert at it. It was like she knew what was wrong with somebody before they even told her. Many believed she had magical powers at this point. I’d spread a few of those rumors myself in my younger years, but that didn’t mean she wasalwaysright.
Because right now she was acting like I was just here to fulfill some duty to my family, not because I actually wanted to be here. I loved this shop and all the memories it held. It kept me connected to what little family I had, and I refused to give that up for anything.
“Okay.” Gran sighed dramatically. “But I’m here if you ever want to talk about your writing. You and your grandpa always came up with such wonderful stories.”
He’s the one who’d gotten me into reading, gifting me books like they were golden treasures. Then Gran would bring me up the mountain with her to gather herbs and I’d sometimes wander off to the Misty Mountain Library to read for a bit. Books had been a huge part of my life for as long as I could remember, but that didn’t mean I had to be the one writing them.
Writing a book was like sharing your biggest dream with a stranger and hoping they didn’t crush it. There was no control or defense. You just had to accept whatever people thought, even if their thoughts were like a dagger to the heart.
“Maybe if you let me read it...” Gran’s offer faded when she caught my expression. “Fine, I don’t need to read it, but one day I truly hope you feel confident enough to share your joy with others.”
“Thank you, Gran.” I gripped her callused hands tight. “You’re the only reason I even tried in the first place. You’ve always got my back, so I’ll let you read it. One day. Maybe whenyou retire.”
She barked a laugh as she poured herself more tea. We both knew that book was locked up in my dresser never to be seen again after the Tales and Tomes fiasco. Another opinion might not be terrible though. Maybe the gods had meant something else and their note was supposed to be helpful? That was probably wishful thinking.
The bell above our front door chimed as a customer walked in. I motioned for Gran to stay where she was and got up to greet them.
“Welcome to Bloom and Bramble Apothecary, how may I–” my voice caught in my throat when I saw the telltale black horns and shadows curling around the man. What was the Demon Lord doing here?? I cleared my throat, trying not to stare. “How may I help you?”
