As she worked, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia and comfort in the old house. It reminded her of her childhood and the times she spent with her grandmother, learning about the world of magic and potions. She took a deep breath and focused on her task, knowing that the fate of Coveward and its people rested on her success.
As she walked around the house, Ophelia took in the sight of the well-kept garden that surrounded it. The grass was neatly trimmed, and the flower patches were arranged stylishly. The trees provided shade and added to the beauty of the place.
The house was square-shaped, with half of it surrounded by overgrown wooden overhanging panels. It had an average-sized kitchen and a small bathroom, along with a large living room, two bedrooms, a grand dining room, a bar, and a snug garage.
The second floor was bigger than the first, creating a stylish overhang on one side of the house. Its style differed from the floor below, adding a touch of uniqueness to the overall design.
The roof was high and triangular, with one side longer than the other and covered in redwood shingles. Two large chimneys poked out from the center of the roof. The rooms below the roof had a few small, round windows that let in just enough light.
Ophelia knew that this hidden house would be the perfect place to make the potion without the coven finding out.
She carefully measured out the Water Avens and placed it in a pestle and mortar, beating it until it became a creamy emulsion. She then added some purified water and the Blood Celery, one quarter at a time. In a separate pan, she filled it with fresh, clean water and added the mixture, letting it sit for a while before bringing it to a boil.
After it cooled down to the body temperature of a reptile, she added the Wild Clary and Dream Galangal, all at once on the count of three. She rapidly heated the mixture until it was hot and mixed in the Witch’s Galingale, letting everything rest until the mixture had a thick consistency.
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She stirred the potion one last time to make sure it was the correct consistency, and that she had followed the instructions precisely. The potion was now ready to be used. She poured a few sips into a cup, trying not to spill any, and took a cautious sip. The comforting effect was almost instant, and she felt her nerves calm down as she closed her eyes and relaxed. She knew this potion would help many people in her village.
After making the potion, she gathered everything up and went to thank the old woman for letting her use the house. However, she searched the house and couldn’t find the woman. As she approached the door to leave, she heard a peal of faint laughter coming from outside.
As she walked towards the door, she heard a chilling voice behind her say, “I will not let you get away.”
Startled by the voice, she turned around to face the direction it came from. As she looked, she saw the figure of a woman approaching her. The hood of her cloak obscured the woman’s face, and she held a long staff in her hand.
Feeling a sense of danger, the young woman slowly backed away, but the woman continued to advance. “Who are you?” the young woman asked nervously.
“I am the keeper of this forest,” the woman replied, her voice low and ominous. “And you have trespassed upon my domain. What brings you here?”
Ophelia explained her mission to the forest keeper, telling her about the curse that had befallen the village of Coveward and how she had come to seek a potion to break it. The forest keeper listened intently, her expression unreadable.
When the young woman finished her tale, the forest keeper spoke. “You have a noble goal, but you must be careful. The forces of darkness are strong, and they will not take kindly to your meddling.”
With that, the forest keeper disappeared into the trees, leaving the young woman alone with her thoughts. She knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but she was determined to succeed. She took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and set off towards Coveward, the potion in her hand and hope in her heart.
The forest keeper cautioned her, reminding her that even though she was noble, there were still those who would rather see witches burned at the stake. The path she was on was dangerous, and she needed to be careful. She gave her a small vial of a protective potion, made from rare herbs found only in the deepest parts of the forest. She thanked him and promised to use it wisely.
With the vial in her pocket and the comforting potion in her hand, she set out on her journey back to her village, determined to make things right.