Ezra
We made our way down two flights of winding stone stairs, heading toward the lower wing where the palace apothecary and potion rooms were. Allen opened the heavy oak doors as quietly as he could.
Inside, the room smelled strongly of dried lavender, and heaven knows how many other mixtures there were.
Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, packed with hundreds of small, dusty glass vials, earthenware jars, and labeled bottles.
"Okay, stay right there," I instructed him, gently trying to pull my hand back, but Allen still held me, dragging himself along as I stepped toward the shelves. "Fine, you clingy man-baby. Just let me look at least."
I scanned the rows of bottles, my eyes darting across the faded, handwritten labels. Mixed root powder... Aphrodisiac elixir... Burnt beetroot essence...
"Where is it?" I muttered to myself, leaning in closer to read a small jar filled with blue liquid. "It should be under 'C' for Cooling, or maybe 'F' for Fever..."
