Working in an apothecary was supposed to be simple. I mean, alchemy was always something I excelled at. At least, I thought it was but it was a secret to no one that I could be a little... what's the word? Clumsy.

It was a beautiful place to work in though, tucked away down a quiet cobblestone street in a cosy little village called Crestwick. The apothecary building was stacked only two stories high from grey stone bricks that were decorated in vines and moss and adorned with these adorable little wooden sash windows.

I sat by one now, brushing the old netted curtain aside to glance out at the trees outside. Dying leaves rustled in the steady autumn breeze as if whispering secrets of the season to one another. A gentle stream of sunlight filtered through the branches, casting swirling patterns on the path below.

Sighing, I took in the heady aroma of dried herbs and spices that mingled with the ever so slight sweetness of honeyed resins. Even in here I could hear the weathered wooden sign outside creaking softly as it swayed so gently above our heavy oak door.

Inside was a verdant wonderland where plants hung from every surface, their tendrils cascading from every nook and cranny. Elderleaf and moonblossom twisted and twined with wispwood sage and shadowthorn, growing together in our indoor woodland. Each jar and bottle on our cluttered shelves promised its own slice of magic. Here, you could find everything from rare, raw ingredients to meticulously crafted, fully stocked potions—each one a testament to the alchemical artistry that thrived within these walls.

Well, until I made a mistake. Where I was supposed to add two teaspoons of powered stardust, I had foolishly used ground moonstone. An easy mistake to make by all accounts, they did look startlingly similar. Both had this celestial sparkle when held up just right against the light, shimmering in a colour somewhere between silver and gold.

It was entirely my fault. Well, Whiskers—my mentor's beloved cat—was also to blame. He had scurried past, knocking over our last bottle of dragon's breath which certainly interrupted my train of thought. By the time I'd returned to my cauldron it was already starting to bubble over which meant I had to add the last ingredient right away. Thanks to my luck, when I'd quickly grabbed the bottle I believed to contain what I wanted, I'd instead thrown in a teaspoon of something entirely different.

"Fiddlesticks and Faerie Dust! Lyra what have you done?" I spoke to myself more than anything but still glared at Whiskers and hurried to cover the cauldron before any of the tainted potion could spill out. Merlin knows what that concoction would do if it were to touch anything. Covering my hands, I grabbed the cauldron and moved it away from the fire, hoping to cool it before I could do any further damage. 

Anxiety twisted in my stomach as I stared down at the bubbling cauldron, placing my hands firmly against my hips as if to steady myself. The potion, which was now a vibrant shade of emerald green, hissed and sputtered as though it had a grudge against me. I already knew the damage was done, even if I hoped to swiftly rectify my mistake. If only I had been more careful and less distracted by Whiskers and his antics.

"Mr Pendergast is going to kill me." Sparing no time to waste, I grabbed a nearby book on potion misfires and flipped through the pages frantically. "Elixir of Empathic Communication," I read aloud when I found the potion I was supposed to make, "intended for use in enhancing emotional understanding between beings, blah blah blah." I skimmed along until I found a scribbling of old notes down one side of the page. "Mix with caution. Mistaking powered stardust for ground moonstone may cause unintended magical effects."

Great. Just great. Flipping the book shut, I groaned. My mentor had warned me about the dangers of mixing up ingredients, but I hadn't imagined it would lead to something like this. I had to fix it—whatever it was.

Just then, the cauldron let out a loud pop, and a wisp of blue smoke shot out. It quickly formed a small, hovering cloud that seemed to shimmer with an odd kind of sentience. It floated around me, changing colours with each pass. Blue, green, purple, yellow. I could almost feel its... amusement?

"Great," I said, rubbing my temples at the feeling of an imminent headache coming on. "Now there's a sentient smoke cloud. Just what I needed."

Whiskers, perched on a nearby shelf, watched the smoke cloud with keen interest. He tilted his head to the side as the cloud passed over him, a small dribble of pearlescent liquid dripping from it onto his tiny pink nose. 

"I do hope you have a plan, my dear. I'd hate to see what other messes you might create." I all but jumped from my skin when Whiskers spoke with the voice of a sophisticated old man.

"Whiskers," I said slowly, "you can talk? You've never been able to talk before, have you? Or were you just keeping quiet around me to make me look stupid?"

Whiskers blinked lazily and gave a little shrug. "I certainly couldn't speak your tongue before, dear. I suppose it's the work of our charming friend here." He flicked a paw toward the errant smoke cloud, which had started floating around the room in a joyful, skipping dance. The cloud shimmered in hues of violet and silver as it drifted playfully from one side of the room to the other, floating past above our heads.

My eyes widened as I followed the cloud's acrobatic display. "You mean to tell me that cloud is responsible for this? I thought it was just a by-product of the potion!"

"By-product or no, I believe you've created quite an interesting creature. Oh, I cannot wait for the master to return," Whiskers replied, his voice now laced with a hint of amusement. "This particular cloud seems to have quite the personality. It must be the elixir's side effect."

"Is this permanent?" I asked, panic rising in my voice. "I mean, are you going to stay this way forever?"

The cloud shimmered as it twirled around us, sending out a sprinkle diamond particles that floated gently to the ground. It seemed to pulse rhythmically, almost like it was laughing at us.

I pointed up at it with my brows crossed. "No, we'll have no more of that. The last thing we need is for the plants to start talking too."

The cloud shrank, it's colour fading to grey for the briefest of moments before it lit up and expanded again, continuing it's dance through the air.

Whiskers tilted his head thoughtfully. "Well, it seems to be enjoying itself immensely, but I suspect it might not last long. I'd wager that as soon as the effects of the potion wear off, so will my newfound verbosity."

I rubbed my temples again, wondering how one tiny mistake could hold consequences like these. Who knew how long it would take to wear off or for the cloud to dwindle away. I moved closer to it as it playfully looped around my head and then zoomed off towards a high shelf, bobbing up and down as if teasing me.

"Alright," I said, trying to keep my tone calm despite the swirling chaos around me. "If this cloud is the source, then maybe we need to find a way to address it. The sooner we can reverse the potion's effects, the better."

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©KatherineMoore2024