With the small cart filled with fresh potions and Bluebell the Mule ready to pull it, Creek and Fable were off into the Elven village of Darnassea. Settled in a large clearing of Lastmoore Forest, The town appeared unattractive with its gray rooftops, chiseled stone walls, and un-maintained gardens.
The village’s declining economy was mainly supported by trade, cooking, and crafting. With these minor setbacks, the town's most significant strengths were strong magicians and sustainable hunting. However, Darnassea lacked people with medical skills. So it was a big deal when a Guardian of Herbs and Healing had chosen Fable to be a Keeper. Being someone who came from Hollow Port almost a year before, Fable was more or less infamous for that; some praised her good fortune, and others wondered if she'd turn out like the Dark Sorcerer that ended the Golden Era. Others still thought Fable was unfit to be a Keeper, even if it wasn't their decision. Being a Keeper meant that she was part of the Council. However, since the position she’d take was being held by Forest, the head of the village, she was told she was far too young to have the position.
Despite its strengths and weaknesses, Darnassea's future is primarily unforeseen. Things were up in the air for the little town, and the council was trying their best to help the elven village thrive, but their choices seemed to hinder more than help most times. That is another reason why Fable wasn’t made a council member. Or, another excuse, as Ashling called it.
The clopping of Bluebell's hooves on the stone streets announced their arrival, Fable’s ears drooping anxiously as they went, and she noticed a few faces turn their way. She knew the villagers welcomed her, though she still had the sense that she had to prove herself to them somehow. And while becoming a Keeper was prestigious, she felt the villagers were waiting to see if she deserved the title. She took a slow breath and let Bluebell trot towards her little shop.
"Hey, Don't mind them," Creek told her, giving a nudge. "You'd probably be the village's best doctor with Ashling's help.”
"I just wanted to be a potion maker," Fable answered. "Not a doctor. You know I’m not too fond of the sight of blood... I can barely handle injuries without feeling sick.”
"But you're okay with illness," Creek answered.
"just the common stuff..." Fable responded. "Like Phoenix Fever or the cold. Nothing major like Bog Blight or Gut Rot."
"You'll get there. That’s the important thing," Creek told her encouragingly. "You shouldn't doubt yourself with magic. Isn't that the base of it? Faith and Trust?"
Fable chuckled. "I think you're mixing that with a children’s story." She told him.
Creek grinned back. "Perhaps. But maybe there's truth in it."
"I kinda doubt that,” Fable told him as they reached her apothecary, lovingly called the Abracadabra Apothecary. She liked the ancient word of transmutation for the shop, seeing as she turned herbs into beneficial teas, tinctures, balms, and potions for every use. Heck, she used her extras on herself when she could spare it. They moved Bluebell around to the back and started unloading as the mule drank some water.
The inside of the shop would tickle one's nose with the scent of mixed herbs. There were jars of dried herbs for other potion makers, a small window garden of fresh herbs, and many other completed teas and whatnots. Fable loved the Abracadabra, and she even made a little tea serving nook in the corner with a few books she couldn't fit at home for people to stop and enjoy while sampling teas.
"Go ahead and turn the open sign, would ya?" Fable asked. "We're in for a busy day! Will you be helping out?"
"Wish I could, but I'm helping the smiths in the forge," Creek answered. "They're finishing up a batch of Silver broaches that need to be brought out to sell before the marketplace gets busy.”
Fable smiled. "No problem, I should be able to handle things." She said, feeling her Apothecary wouldn't be the only stop on people's minds for today. "How about for the Moon Rise bonfire?"
"You bet! See you there!" Creek answered as he stepped out of the front door. The bell above it chimed a silvery ring as he left, and he flipped the open sign for Fable as he went.
Fable watched him go, taking a slow breath. She gave her hands a clap before donning her green apron, twisted her hair back, and slipped her wand into her hair to keep it up. "Okay. Let's begin." She told herself as she got a pot of hot water boiling for sample teas.
* * *
It turned out to be a rather busy day at the Abracadabra. Elves, dwarves, and a couple of other satyrs had stopped in for the Lunar Sight potions, along with other little odds and ends for their own uses. Fable had made a decent profit with the profits, and once the sun began to descend below the horizon, she closed up shop and set out for a treat herself. Darnassea was already bustling.! Some elven children played with little paper dragons by using air magic to make them fly around and land on various things and friends. Most hunters and butchers served honey-glazed venison over dragon flame provided by their Hearth Drakes. These colorful creatures were like a cousin to the Fox Drakes, but they weren't guardians. They were more companions. Some people used them for glass making, others for cooking delectables. The most significant difference was that while Hearth Drakes could breathe fire, most Fox Drakes couldn't. That is unless they were a guardian of fire.
Fable smiled as she walked, purchasing a sugar-glazed apple with toffee bits. She held the basket of candied fruit as she wandered down the street, the light around her turning golden as she walked in the sunset. The Moon Rise bonfire would start soon, and she looked around for Creek as she moved to the town square. That is, until she felt an unwelcome presence behind her.
Fable pressed her lips together and groaned.
"Oh, I thought you were staying in your cottage." came the voice she dreaded to hear.
Fable turned, putting on a friendly smile. At least as close to cordial as she could muster. "Of course not, Lark. I'd never miss out on this."
Lark Starscribe, the sweetheart of Darnassea and daughter of one of the council members, was gifted in magic and its uses, and she was respected for these details. In fact, of all people that could earn the favor of a Fox Drake, it would have been her. So when Ashling had chosen the potion master’s new apprentice, it was shocking to the village council. The Starscribe Family was in a long line of Star Gazers, able to see changes in the future by watching the stars. After the first Starscribe had proven his skills of Foresight among the Stars and became a council member, he was given the Surname Starscribe.
Lark was a lovely elf with hair of rich red wine and eyes of silver starlight, and she had the potential to be a powerful sorceress. Beside her was her friend, Juniper. She was attractive with raven hair and deep purple eyes and skilled in divination magic. Her elf runes were never far from her hand for the chance to read someone's future. The worst part, though, was that compared to them, Fable seemed like she should be working in the back of a bakery instead of running her own Apothecary.
Lark gazed at Fable, her small basket of goods, and her austere clothes in a quick but thorough assessment. Fable tried to ignore the fact that there was a stain on the bottom hem of her shirt where a potion had splashed on her earlier that day, but she knew the daughter of the Water Council Member had already taken notice and judged it. "Where's Lady Ashling?" Lark asked.
"She's with her clan,” Fable answered. She knew Creek wasn't comfortable with his intuitive feelings yet, and she didn't want to draw attention to him.
"Oh, has she grown bored of the little potion maker?" Lark asked, her voice so sticky with false honey that it made Fable's cheeks turn rosy, both annoyance and discomfort.
"Of course not." Fable answered, trying to keep her temper in check. "but I don't keep her on a leash. She comes and goes as she wishes, and I'm certain the clan has its own traditions. Now, I would stay, but I'm meeting Creek for the bonfire."
She started to turn away when she heard the clickety-clack of elf runes being shuffled. She glanced back to see Juniper open her palm and look at the runes in her hands. Juniper hummed. "The Moon and the Scythe." she said, her voice quiet but in a tone that always made one's heart want to pause in anticipation. "Sudden and long-term change is coming. With secrets and hidden agendas abound." She lifted her purple eyes to Fable. "As well as danger. What's been happening, Fable?"
Fable gulped. "I honestly couldn't tell you." she said. "I'm just here for the festivities. You know, the bonfire and all?"
She stepped back from them, her quiet nature taking over before she bumped into someone behind her. She turned and felt relief wash over her as she saw Thrush. The tall elf raised an eyebrow at the two girls and folded his large arms. "A bonfire we should all be heading to. Especially you, Lady Lark. Aren't you supposed to be standing with your father on the stand?"
Lark pressed her lips together but nodded. "I am. But I couldn't help but say hello to Fable." She gave a smile to Fable. "Light in your dark." She said the typical way one elf bade fair well. And with a flurry of silks, the two were striding away.
Fable sighed and smiled at Thrush. "Thank you,” she said.
"No need to thank me,” Thrush said. "Those two seem to have let their family's reputations get to their heads. Come on, you mentioned Creek was meeting you?"
Fable nodded, and she followed Thrush. The Potions Master was tall with dark, earthy skin and sky-blue eyes. While he wasn't built like a Potions Master as most people think he would be by description, Thrush was well-toned and tall, his pointed ears holding back long dark dreadlocks of hair that weren't pulled back into a half ponytail. He was Fable's first teacher when she started seeking her path. While apprenticing under him, she met Ashling while on a foraging trip.
"Don't let those two get to you," Thrush informed her. "Everyone should know the lesson of 'you don't deserve everything,'"
"But be glad for the blessings you have." Fable finished. "True, but... it bothers me that it bothers them so much. About me becoming a Keeper. We all thought Lark would be considered as a Keeper."
"Well, magic is all about change and cycles," Thrush answered. "Perhaps that needs to be re-taught."
Fable smiled and gave a slight nod. She could agree to that.
Soon enough, The two reached the square; a large bonfire had been prepared with oak and various herbs that brought luck and prosperity. All around the square were flags, vendors, and tents for various festival services like skin painting with patterns that made one look like their skin was stained glass, fortune telling, and a couple of small food vendors. Fable instantly spotted Creek. The carrot top was already bouncing and waving to get her attention, getting a few looks thrown at him from passing elves and other patrons wandering joyfully through the festival. After bidding Thrush a hurried goodbye, Fable rushed to Creek's side.
"What took ya?" he asked.
"Couldn't forget your sweet tooth." Fable teased as she offered him some of her sugar apple. Creek grinned at her and accepted a slice.
"Your tardiness is forgiven,” he said as he happily crunched into it.
The crowd hushed as the council appeared behind the Bonfire, all five wearing a robe colored for an Element. Sapphire stood for Water, bronze for Earth, gold for Fire, amethyst for Air, and white for Soul. The politics for elves were unique, but Fable always found them boring. The Council worked like four Mayors and a head Mayor. The head, or the Soul Member, would then meet with other Soul Members under their leader, the Elven King. It had been like this since the elves first came to Myth; The Sages, a group of Five Keepers of the Elements, had helped the elves find their place in Myth, and since then, every Village had five council members to represent those five keepers. If Fable were to be a member of the Council, she would have been the Soul member as a Keeper. However, that title belonged to Forest. And while Ashling would see her Keeper given the respect she earned after being chosen, Fable was comfortable with her current arrangement. She liked her little cottage and gardens and not bearing the weight of meeting the King for yearly meetings.
Behind the Water Member stood Lark. Since the element of water was closely related to the moon and stars, the Starscribes had always been Water Council members. Lark gazed at Fable, and Fable quickly looked away as movement from another member caught her attention.
Forest stepped forward, his white and silver robes almost reflecting the colors of the other robes around him as he raised his hands, and the village fell silent.
"Welcome, my friends and neighbors," he greeted the crowd, raising his hands in a flourish of white robes that shimmered iridescently. "And I bid you all a Happy Full Moon Festival. As the Moon reflects the sun's light in the darkest hours of the night, may our support and kindness be reflected to each other in this time. May the visions the Moon may bring us tonight be beneficial to further better our crafts, relationships, and paths. With this blessing, we light the fire that reminds us of the passions that burn within us all!"
With that, he and the four other members held up their hands to join Forests’ and summoned a small flame, each holding a different hue that matched their stations. Together, they laid the flames in the bonfire, catching in a radiant blaze of blues, bronze, gold, purples, and whites. The elves cheered and raised their hands to the air, some dancing as the music began to play while the bonfire flames leaped skyward with trailing sparks.
Fable applauded as the fire roared to life, and the elves, satyrs, and other travelers started dancing to bard songs. She smiled as she watched them, finding they reflected the dancing flames in the bonfire, each different but joined in beautiful motion. She shifted on her feet a little, admiring the dance but unsure how to join in. She was still seen as an outsider after all, and none of the elves had offered their hand for her to join.
Creek smiled at the elves' dance before looking at Fable. She was watching the festivities, her thoughts elsewhere for the moment. Though he’d known Fable long enough to see she was overthinking. Seeing their treat was eaten, he took her by the hand and pulled her towards the dancing circle.
"Wha-Creek!" She started, but Creek only laughed as they were pulled into the joyful dancing. Fable rolled her eyes and laughed but danced along with Creek, deciding to forget about Lark, being a Keeper, her expectations in the village, and politics. It was the Full Moon Festival, a night of fun and celebration of friends and dreams of what lay ahead. Tonight was for fun, and she let it be that way.
