27. Zeina
ZEINA
The following night, Zeina stood in the Apothecary, turning the pages of Hashiluna’s ancient book of potions in her hands.
As she ran her fingers along the text, something in her awakened.
The edges were frayed and its gold inscription faded, but even so, it felt magical.
Ever since she saw Barrow use the book, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
She couldn’t stop thinking about why he would want to fake her death.
Now, she sat huddled in the damp Apothecary air, clutching the book in her hands, studying every word, every symbol, every scribbled note that had been added.
Maybe it had something, anything, that could help her break Barrow’s potion.
If Ahmina died or disappeared, even under false pretences, Zeina’s time at the Academy would be over.
She was used to moving on, starting over, having nothing.
The difference was, for the first time in her life, Zeina had something.
Not just a warm place to sleep, a continual supply of food, and access to clean clothes.
Now, she had Alchemy. For the first time in her life she felt she had purpose.
A passion. Something to live for more than simply suriving.
The thought of giving it up made her desperate, frantic even.
More so than any pair of shoes, warm meal, or soft bed. More than anything she had ever known.
She spent the next two nights in candlelight, struggling to understand the words. Her poor literacy meant that every instruction took forever to decipher.
She didn’t have time for this.
Ahmina didn’t have time for this.
On the third day, the Alchemists said Ahmina wasn’t going to make it through another night.
Whatever Barrow wanted with Ahmina involved everyone believing her to be dead.
And despite Zeina’s motivations being selfish, she still didn’t think Ahmina deserved whatever Barrow had in store for her.
In fact, a protective fire ignited within her, one she hadn’t thought herself capable of. It became all-consuming.
Heartbroken and bitter, she snuck back into the Apothecary to say her own goodbye.
Zeina couldn’t remember the last time she cried, but as she sat on the floor, looking up at the shelves of herbs, flowers, roots, seeds, and tonics, she wept at the beauty of it all.
For the first time ever, she was excited about something and felt like she belonged somewhere. Right there, in the Apothecary.
And now, it was being ripped away from her before it even really began. Even though she didn’t have any friends—in fact, no one even knew she existed—she felt at home here in the Apothecary, for reasons she couldn’t explain.
She even, in some strange way, felt at home in Ahmina’s shadow.
With blurry eyes, she lifted Hashiluna’s book off her lap.
She was clumsy, clouded with grief, and it dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.
When she glanced down, she noticed a piece of paper had fallen out.
She couldn’t understand the title or description because it was written in old Jarrian.
But one single word was clear: desperate.
If she were anything in that moment, it was desperate. No matter the reason Barrow intended to fake Ahmina’s death, she couldn’t let it happen. It wasn’t clear what the potion did, but it was her only option.
Wiping her eyes, she twisted the cap off the first bottle, eager to get the potion started. Just then, something swooshed overhead, startling her. She looked around the room, her eyes met with dark corners and shadows.
“Who’s there?” she whispered. Nothing.
She went back to pouring her potion: first the thorn of a sweet tobacco vine, then the tiniest bit of blood cherry.
Moonlight poured in from the Apothecary’s upper windows and reflected off the various jars and bottles storing herbs and plants.
It was the same blue hue that draped over Ahmina at that very moment.
The image seemed poetic to Zeina, but she forced herself not to hang onto the thought. She couldn’t afford to get soft now.
She didn’t need the moon’s glow to follow the mysterious recipe as her eyes had adjusted to working in the dark, but it helped nonetheless, and she let the music of the ingredients chime harmoniously, serenading her while she mixed.
One thing that intrigued her about Alchemy was its unusual sort of energy work.
If one followed the instructions exactly, their potion would work as intended.
But if one felt the instructions, the result was much more powerful.
She didn’t know why, but she could just sense the energy transfer within her when she worked. It was cathartic.
As she put away her tinctures and materials, something gleamed from the upper shelves, catching her eye.
Only a few shelves above her reach was a small bird, wings flapping in such rapid succession that they could barely be seen.
Occasionally, they caught the moonlight, sending a small flash of light.
Sliding the attached wooden ladder over, Zeina climbed to the bird’s height to find the creature’s legs caught in between two heavy bottles, trapping it in place.
It struggled, flapping anxiously to free itself.
“Don’t worry; I can help,” she whispered.
Cautiously, she touched the bird's tiny leg. It flinched.
“Shhh… it’s okay,” she said, reassuring it that she meant no harm.
Slowly, carefully, she pushed one of the bottles to the side, freeing the delicate bird. It shot up into the air and zipped around the room so quickly Zeina could barely track its flightline.
She climbed down the ladder and pulled out the copy of The Creature Encyclopedia that lived in the classroom. It was giant and heavy, but she got it over to her table and opened it to the avian section.
There were hundreds of avian creatures, each with their own unique coloring and magical ability. Her eyes searched the room again to get another glimpse of the tiny creature, but it had slipped into the shadows of the room’s upper corners, safely hidden.
She didn’t blame it. She often felt the need to hide, too.
Searching the long list of avian creatures, she finally came across a bird mirroring the one she saw. She could only make out some of the words…
Purring Songbird
Fast, quick moving
Hard to see or capture
Can make you hear things that aren't real
She didn’t need more than that to understand. This little bird could send a grown man into a mental war. Searching the rafters where the Songbird hid, she finally spotted two little violet eyes staring back at her.
Leaving the Songbird where it was, she left the Apocathary to visit Ahmina in the infirmary, gently pouring the new potion onto Ahmina’s tongue when the Alchemists weren’t looking.
She felt a small sense of guilt, given she had no idea what the potion really was or how it worked, but it was all she had.
All Ahmina had. And really, her condition couldn’t get any worse.
Afterward, she lay on a bag of rice, contemplating this for hours, until eventually she dozed off to sleep. Sometime in the night, she was awoken by a quiet buzzing by her ear. She opened her eyes to catch a flash of fuchsia up above the preserved vegetables.
The Purring Songbird had followed her home.