Efforts to Reclaim

As the heavy oak door creaked open, a rush of cool air from inside chilled Zerin to the bone, his drenched clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin.

'Damn it, why is it so damn cold?' he thought, stepping inside.

The dim green light within the shop cast an eerie glow, bouncing off the crystals hanging in front of him, refracting faint beams of light across the floor. He squinted, trying to shake off the odd encounter outside with that mysterious man. His words still lingered, but Zerin convinced himself he was just some weirdo killing time.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to his right. Behind the register stood a young girl, about his age. She stood calmly with her hands clasped at her waist.

"Can I help you, sir?" the girl asked, her voice unexpectedly deep and steady, more mature.

Zerin raised an eyebrow. "You don't look like a witch," he remarked flatly.

The girl's lips curled into a small smile. "You would be right. I'm not the Witch. I'm her assistant."

From somewhere in the back aisles, Jerika called out, "Zerin, come on, she's back here."

After a quick glance at the girl behind the counter, Zerin turned and made his way through the narrow aisles. The smell of burning incense hit him immediately, filling the air with a mixture of scents—sandalwood, lavender, and something more pungent he couldn't quite place. Candles of every size and color lined the shelves.

Eventually, he caught up with Jerika, who was standing near a heavy velvet curtain at the back of the shop.

She turned to him and gave a small nod. "I'll wait here. Don't worry, she doesn't bite."

He took a deep breath before pushing the curtain aside.

Inside the booth was a realm unto itself. The booth was crafted with the purpose to draw in visitors. As Zerin stepped through the curtains, the rope lights that lined the interior edges of the small space rose in illumination, flickering rhythmically like warm candles.

The warm hues of the lights shifted, bathing the booth in a comforting glow. The walls were draped in rich, velvety fabric that absorbed the light, enhancing how enclosed the space truly was.

The small space was mostly occupied by a single chair in the center. The chair's fabric was a deep crimson, luxurious to sit upon. The cushions were thick and comfortable, with intricate gold threads embroidered along the edges, forming swirling patterns that traced the dark wood of the chair's frame.

Directly in front of the chair stood a large mirror, built into the wall of the booth. The frame was crafted from wood, painted in a radiant gold. Intricate carvings graced the edges of the mirror's frame, showcasing the woodworker's skill.

As he peered into the mirror, he quickly realized it was more than just a reflective surface. As this realization dawned on him, the lights dimmed further, and the edges of the mirror began to glow. The glass shifted. He saw through to the other side.

On the other side of the glass, a veiled woman was shown. The darkness of her clothing contrasted with the golden piece of jewelry over her veil. Upon her head was a loose circlet that held a golden piece resting on her forehead.

"You can take a seat," she said with a smooth voice.

Zerin moved towards the chair and sat down, looking through the mirror at her.

"So, you are the boy in question... the one with memory issues. Tell me, how did this occur?" she questioned calmly, her body poised and still.

"A Nightmare creature, in the First Nightmare," Zerin answered.

Her response was immediate. "That will not be an issue at all. The First Nightmare is an illusionary experience. The First Nightmare exists solely within the realm of the soul. In due time, I am certain you will receive your memories back."

She paused briefly before speaking again. "Is that why you came here? Nothing else?"

'That's it?'

Zerin sat there, dumbfounded by how quickly she had evaluated him based on his words alone.

"That was the reason, didn't Jerika tell you?" Zerin asked.

"I only allow my patients to tell me their issues," she replied unwaveringly. "Who else could possibly know their afflictions better than themselves?"

"Though, from what I can tell, I am fairly certain that your problems are far deeper than just memory loss," the lady stated plainly. "I sense that your affliction is with your soul—perhaps it was heavily damaged, obstructed, or even sealed in some way."

"Sealed?" Zerin said, widening his eyes.

She nodded and leaned closer to the mirror. Her veil shifted slightly, allowing Zerin a glimpse of her features—just the corner of her lips, subtly curved, and a small mole on the side of her cheek. She adjusted the veil so it fell back into place, obscuring her face once more.

From what he had read, having a heavily damaged soul could be nearly fatal. However, he felt completely fine. In fact, recently he had felt better than ever, as the realization that the First Nightmare was an illusory realm gave him some sense of ease. He thought he might be able to put everything that happened there behind him.

She lifted her other hand while adjusting, raising a small green vial. The vial looked antique, with intricate gold designs etched on its surface. Extending her arm, she passed the vial through the mirror, crossing the boundary that separated them.

"Here."

Zerin's eyes widened at the impossible sight. He quickly sat up, reaching for the vial. When his hand closed around it, he overturned the small bottle in his hand.

"What is this?" he asked, raising his brows ever so slightly.

"Medicine," she replied with a single word.

"That medicine will not resolve your issue entirely," she added with a sigh, "But the current state of your soul doesn't seem to be affecting you in any way right now, so it might not even be an issue down the line."

"Perhaps once you become an awakened, the issue with your soul will alleviate."

Zerin nodded slowly, not entirely understanding why, but trusting her words.

"I didn't say I was done," the woman spoke sharply as Zerin began to rise from his seat.

"You must ingest a single drop from the vial every day for the next few months," she instructed more sternly. "And it must be in the morning, not at night. Do you hear me?"

"What will happen if I make a mistake?"

"Who knows." She leaned back in her seat. "I'm not responsible for any side effects you experience if you fail to follow these simple instructions."

"Okay..." Zerin replied, processing her words.

"If that is all, you may go..." Her tone softened just a fraction.

"Thanks..." Zerin said, tucking the vial in his pocket.

"It's my job. No need to thank me." Her voice trailed off as the mirror began to dim. The rope lights in the booth flickered before igniting into a warm glow.

Zerin stood from the chair, thinking about what she had said as he pushed past the velvety curtains.

As he stepped out of the booth, he found Jerika waiting against the wall, her arms folded.

"How did it go?" she asked, stepping forward.

Zerin dug into his pockets and held up the green vial. "She gave me this medicine."

Jerika's eyes brightened. "Good, we didn't come here for no reason." A smile spread across her face as she turned, heading toward the main entrance of the shop.

As they approached the front, Zerin noticed that the young woman was still standing there, calm as before.

"Don't we have to pay?" he asked.

Jerika paused, turning back to him with a smile. "She only charges those who waste her time. Looks like we're lucky—we got a solution," she said lightly.

And with that, she led the way out of 'The Willowed Coven.'