The Forest of the Forgotten

Amnity's cottage felt like a sanctuary after the strange silence of the forest. She dropped her pack by the door and took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scents of dried herbs and the lingering sweetness of yesterday's honey cakes. Everything was exactly as she'd left it—copper pots hanging from their hooks, wooden counters worn smooth by years of use, the cheerful clutter of a kitchen that was truly lived in.

But it was the narrow alcove beside her spice rack that called to her now. Her apothecary was modest compared to the grand laboratories she'd seen in the mirror cities, but it was perfectly suited to her needs. Glass vials of varying sizes lined wooden shelves, each one labeled in her careful handwriting. Brass scales gleamed on the counter, flanked by mortars and pestles carved from different stones—each one chosen for specific magical properties. A small cauldron hung from an adjustable iron arm over a magical flame that burned without fuel or smoke.

Amnity carefully unwrapped the Glowing Imp Root, setting it on a special preparation board made from heartwood. The root pulsed with gentle bioluminescence, its surface ridged and twisted like a miniature tree. This was the most complex potion she'd ever attempted, requiring perfect timing and precise measurements.

She pulled out her grandmother's recipe book, the leather binding soft with age, and turned to the page she'd studied countless times but never dared attempt. The Healing Draught of the Deep Forest required thirteen ingredients, prepared in a specific sequence under the light of the waxing moon. Tonight, fortunately, the moon would be in its perfect phase.

First, the root itself had to be prepared. Amnity lit the magical flame with a whispered word, adjusting it to the lowest possible setting. The Glowing Imp Root needed to be heated slowly, carefully, until its outer skin could be peeled away in thin translucent layers. Too much heat and the essential oils would evaporate. Too little, and the skin wouldn't separate properly.

As she worked, her mind naturally drifted to tomorrow night's Midnight Moon Festival. She'd been looking forward to it for months—the one night when all of Nova's scattered communities came together in the Great Meadow. Vendors would line the paths with their wares laid out on blankets and wooden tables, selling everything from spiced ciders to enchanted trinkets. Musicians would play under the stars, and couples would dance on the soft grass while children chased fireflies through the crowd.

The root's skin came away in perfect spirals, revealing the luminous flesh beneath. Amnity smiled as she collected the peelings in a silk cloth—they'd be useful for lesser healing salves later. The exposed root glowed brighter now, its light pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.

Next came the silver moss, which needed to be ground to powder while still damp from the morning dew. The brass mortar rang like a bell as she worked, the sound clear and pure in her quiet kitchen. Three full turns clockwise, then three counter-clockwise, then a final clockwise turn while humming the ancient preservation song her grandmother had taught her.

She paused in her work to pull out a piece of paper and her favorite quill. The invitation had been forming in her mind as she worked, growing clearer with each careful step of the potion-making process.

Ellie,

I know you're probably still talking with Eleazar, but I wanted to invite you to the Midnight Moon Festival tomorrow night. Would you like to go with me? As my date? I've been thinking about asking you for weeks, but there never seemed to be a right moment. We could walk through the vendors together, try the honey wine from the northern settlements, maybe dance if the musicians are good.

I'll be finishing the healing draught tomorrow evening—it should be ready just in time for the festival. I think you'd like to see how it turns out.

I hope things go well with Eleazar. Whatever you learn, whatever you decide, I want you to know that you're always welcome at my table.

With love,

Amnity

She folded the letter carefully and set it aside. She'd send it with one of the message-birds in the morning.

The crystallized dew came next, tiny diamonds of trapped moonlight that had to be dissolved in spring water heated to precisely the temperature of a human tear. Too hot and the magic would break; too cold and it wouldn't integrate properly. Amnity held her hand over the small cauldron, feeling for the exact moment when the water was ready.

As she worked, she found herself humming—first the preservation song, then a harvest melody, then one of the dancing tunes they'd play tomorrow night. The familiar rhythms of magical cooking soothed her in a way that conversation never could. This was her element, her gift. In this small alcove with its carefully organized tools and ingredients, she could heal the sick, mend the broken, bring comfort to those who needed it most.

The dissolved dew shimmered in the cauldron like liquid starlight. Perfect. Now came the delicate work of adding the prepared root, slice by paper-thin slice, while maintaining the exact temperature and stirring in the complex pattern that would bind all the magical properties together.

Outside her windows, Nova's twilight was deepening toward true night. Somewhere across the settled lands, Ellie was probably confronting Eleazar about her past, demanding answers to questions that had been buried for years. But here in her kitchen, surrounded by the tools of her trade and the promise of tomorrow night's festival, Amnity felt perfectly content to focus on the work at hand.

The healing draught would be ready by tomorrow evening, just as she'd promised in her letter. And if Ellie said yes to being her date, it would be the perfect ending to what had begun as a simple gathering expedition and turned into something much more complicated.

But complications could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, there was only the gentle glow of the magical flame, the steady rhythm of stirring, and the quiet satisfaction of creating something beautiful and useful with her own hands.

The Glowing Imp Root settled into the potion with a soft sigh, its bioluminescence spreading through the liquid like dawn breaking over still water. Tomorrow night, under the light of the full moon, this draught would be ready to heal anyone who needed it.

And hopefully, tomorrow night, she wouldn't be dancing alone.