Five Drops

“Bone of a saint, gravemoss, moondew, the shoes of someone who recently passed...”

“What the hell?” Pip seemed to say the very thing she was thinking. “What is Lara making?”

“Or unmaking,” Ness muttered, making Maeve chuckle.

They browsed the colorful market, trinkets and goods lining each provisioner’s shelf. The air was filled with a blend of spices from the bakery down the road, where the meat pies were a favorite of Pip’s.

Maeve put down the puzzle box she had been fiddling with, the owner of the stall watching her closely. She put a hand on her hip as she glanced through the list of alchemical ingredients again. “I don’t think we’re going to find any of these items here...”

“Maybe we should ask someone?” Ness asked the group.

“Absolutely not. We can figure this out ourselves,” Pip’s face suddenly determined.

“What is it with men and asking for directions?” Ness muttered to Maeve, causing Pip to shoot her a glare.

Maeve observed some of the stores in the distance, trying to block out the bickering twins. A sign stuck out down the road: The Hag’s Hut.

Almost too good to be true.

Almost.

“Was that there before?” she motioned toward the sign as she began to walk toward it.

The twins followed close behind her. Pip clutched his cloak tighter, pulling the hood up to cover his shock of red hair. “I don’t think we should go in...” he whispered as they began to walk toward their new destination.

They came upon a large wooden door with the figure of a face etched meticulously into the wood, as though the spirit of the tree were trying to break free. Maeve traced the face with a gloved hand-- she could feel warmth emanating from the other side. She pushed it open, excitement thumping in her chest.

The store was dark and smelled like wet parchment. The only light came from the hearth fire in a far corner and from randomly placed candles burning low, their wicks at their ends. Maeve walked in and observed the closest table to her. It was blanketed in loose parchment and bottles and jars, varying in size, shape, and color. She picked up the closest jar and brought it to her face, then quickly set it back down when something blinked back at her from within.

“We’re in the right place,” she whispered to the twins, who clung to her back as they tried to make themselves as small as possible.

Squinting past the thin layer of smoke hanging in the air, she saw a figure near the hearth fire. The shadowy figure hunched over the hearth fire, stirring something in a large pot-- it looked like a scene pulled straight out of a bedtime story.

“Hello?” she called out. Pip whined behind her, tugging on her shirt, clearly desperate to leave. She waved him away, this wasn't one of her father's fairy tales.

“Sorry to trouble you, but our friend has given us a list of... ingredients.” She held out the short parchment as she walked closer.

The shadowed figure loomed silently.

“Awkward,” Ness muttered, afraid to speak too loudly.

Maeve cleared her throat and tried again. “We have an odd list of ingredients. Do you have any—” Her voice trailed off as she scanned the parchment again. “Grave moss?” It seemed like the safest option from the list.

After a short stretch of silence—long enough for the figure to feel as though it were sizing them up—there was a pop, and the parchment vanished from Maeve’s hand, reappearing in the outstretched fingers of the figure.

Another pop, and the figure disappeared.

The trio stared at the empty space, then at one another.

“Does that mean they’ll help?” Ness asked, her hands tightening on Maeve’s cloak.

Maeve made a noncommittal sound in reply. Initially, she had been dreading running errands for the group, much preferring to stay at the inn. But, this was an interesting turn of events.

Another pop, and the figure returned—this time behind the counter—causing Pip to let out a small scream.

On the counter lay every item from the list. The dark figure held out the parchment with one hand and beckoned them closer with the other. Maeve stepped forward immediately, but the twins stayed behind.

“That was a neat trick,” she said, impressed at the theatrics.

“Not... a... trick,” whispered a voice.

Undeterred, Maeve reached toward one of the ingredients on the counter—a bowl of black moss.

“Pay,” the voice whispered harshly.

“Right, of course!” Maeve pulled out her coin pouch and began to sort through it. “How much?”

The figure opened its palm in response.

Maeve stared at the waiting hand, then at her coin pouch, before placing the pouch into the open palm.

Instead of taking the pouch, the hand snapped shut around her wrist. Sharp black nails dug into her skin. Tiny droplets of blood bloomed and traveled up the figure’s fingers before the hand vanished.

“Thank... you... come... again,” the whispers returned, and then both the voice and the figure disappeared completely.

Maeve stared at her wrist. The small punctures were already healed, leaving behind faint red scars. She rubbed at them, then bent to gather the ingredients.

**

Back at the inn, Maeve laid the ingredients out before Lara, who stared in wonder. “You actually got them? This probably cost you an arm and a leg.” Lara picked up the first item, her eyes alight with the eagerness of a child on their birthday. “...or your soul!” she added, barking out a laugh.

Maeve’s wrist itched in response.

Lara lifted the bone and held it to the light, inspecting it for authenticity before nodding in approval.

“I still can’t believe they had everything,” Pip said, peering cautiously at the grave moss as if it might leap from the table.

The scars on Maeve’s wrist grew warm, the red spots darkening until they looked fresh once more. The sensation returned—not the pain of the puncture or the itch of the scar, but the memory of familiar fingers wrapped around her wrist. The pressure spread up her arm and into her skin, as though mapping every vein.

A chill settled over Maeve as a scratching took root inside her head. The same whisper from the shop filled her ears. This time the words made no sense—poetry in a language she did not know.

Then two familiar words:

Come again.