After tidying up the unholy mess I'd made earlier—scrubbing away every stain left by those ghastly, slimy faeces—I finally gave myself another wash. Partly because I still reeked, and partly because one ought to be squeaky clean before slathering any concoctions onto their skin. Magic beast feces was a whole different kettle of fish. Hopefully, this salve would banish the stench too.

Ah, that reminded me—I'd left my bag at school. And Elise, with her merry band of blasted witches, would've already disposed of it just to spite me. Damn it.

After a thorough and vigorous toweling to banish any lingering moisture, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Clean, yes, but those unsightly burn marks were a glaring reminder. I quickly squashed the anger bubbling up inside me. No time for that luxury. Those fledgling mages were already well on their way to forming cores. The school valued them far more than they ever would me.

Just one more year. Hmph! That was all.

I picked up the glass bottle from the stand, scooping some of the golden salve onto my fingers, and began applying it. Healing salves, especially on burns, should be applied in a slow, clockwise motion. This helps to ensure even absorption and maximizes the salve's soothing properties.

Once I was done, I glanced out the window of my room. The trees swayed in the light breeze, and the evening darkness gave the scene an almost eerie feel.

My box of illicit ingredients was tucked away beneath my bed, snugly nestled alongside my other, um, alchemical experiments—carefully hidden from my father's prying eyes. All this subterfuge was buried under a pile of plush toys Father had lavished upon me to curry favor. I wanted to tell him I'd outgrown them, but a part of me still delighted in their squishy softness. Though, I hadn't dared to pull any of them out today; the thought of smearing them with golden healing salve was simply too dreadful.

Finally, I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes. It was high time I had a chat with Lotte.

I was asleep within seconds.

****

My dreams were never what one might call normal. The moment sleep embraced me, I wasn't just dreaming, but experiencing something entirely different. The wind whipped through my face as I let out a joyous scream. I was falling. Below, the dots of buildings looked like tiny ants. I knew they were skyscrapers, yet from this height, they seemed so insignificant.

And I was plummeting straight toward them. Oh, how dreadful! Was this how I would meet my end, falling from a great height in a dream?

I giggled as I performed midair gymnastics. Falling straight down, flapping my hands like wings, twirling around like a cannonball—all while descending rapidly.

My dreams never hurt me. I had fallen countless times, sometimes with Lotte swooping in to save me. Other times, I'd landed face-first on a silly skyscraper, or plunged into a river, or found myself atop a remarkably advanced bridge. There were forests, factories with fantastically advanced machinery, which I half-suspected were crafted by enchanters and powered by magic.

But I was never hurt. Not once.

And there was no one else in this dream world but me and Lotte.

A vast black silhouette emerged from the clouds beneath me. Ah, speak of the devil! There she was, with her immense and sinuous body, every inch covered in hard, glistening scales. A head like a giant serpent's, wings with a span that might encompass the entirety of Randall, two pairs of formidable clawed limbs, and a tail longer than her whole body—black, scaled, and utterly graceful.

"LOTTEEEE!" I screamed, "SAVE MEEE!"

She looked up at me, her slitted amber eyes fixing on my falling form. With a single flap of her colossal wings, she severed the clouds in an instant. Just one glance from her and I felt myself slowing down.

I soon landed on her back, giggling with excitement as she soared through the air. I gripped the massive thorny growths on her back—painful, were it not for the dream. One couldn't get hurt in dreams, after all.

We descended, streaking past the world whose echoes lingered only in my mind, zipping by skyscrapers at breakneck speeds. Lotte could go faster, much faster, but I might not be able to hold on if she did.

Soon, we found a hill with enough space for Lotte to land comfortably. Dust clouds rose as her massive frame touched down, shaking the entire mountain.

Even downscaling her was an absolute bother. Not that I needed to. As an invisible force gently tugged at my sides, I found myself being slowly lowered. The moment my feet touched the ground, I rushed forward and enveloped Lotte's enormous face in a hug—or at least, I managed to embrace a bit of her snout. It was enough; the gesture had been made.

"I missed you, Lotte!"

"But Jade, we’ve been acquainted for ages. Could you truly have found yourself longing for my presence after merely a single day apart?" Lotte's voice, soft and soothing, echoed directly in my mind without her monstrous mouth moving. It was quite at odds with her fearsome appearance, but then, so was her warm and calming personality.

"Doesn't matter," I huffed, suddenly remembering my earlier indignation. "I'm not amused by what you recommended!"

"Oh, what about?"

"The ingredients you asked me to buy! They nearly landed me in a dungeon!"

Lotte lifted her head, blinking her massive, slitted eyes.

"I'm not sure I understand."

I sighed. "Those ingredients you told me to get are banned in the empire. Old Mekael said they're used for an elixir called Mourning Shade. At low doses, it causes hallucinations with just a drop. At higher doses, it paralyzes the body while leaving the mind fully conscious."

There wasn't a murmur from Lotte for a moment, but when it came, it was a single word.

"Fascinating."

What? That was her response to me nearly being tossed into a dungeon?

It seemed she caught onto my train of thought.

"My sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding, Jade. I never anticipated that the ingredients themselves would be prohibited. Although, I can understand how they might be employed to craft something akin to the Mourning Shade."

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Wait, what did she mean, "might be employed to craft something akin to the Mourning Shade.?"

"So, you didn't ask me to buy these ingredients for making Mourning Shade?"

Her enormous serpent-like face glanced at me. Reading Lotte's expressions was a skill I had yet to master. Her countenance was always stoic, even though the voice resounding in my head conveyed far more about her emotions.

"No, what I had envisioned was entirely different."

Now I was curious.

"Do tell."

"Well, the day your fate takes a turn will be tomorrow. I can already perceive your golden thread fraying into a black one, and I want you to be ready for what’s to come."

Ah, there she went again with her fate and threads talk. I, just, didn't know. I liked Lotte, and the knowledge she had given me was surprising and rare, but sometimes, she could be downright cryptic.

When she prattled on about how my life could change in the blink of an eye, I simply couldn't believe it. Where was this mule-like stubbornness coming from? Was it perhaps due to that quintessentially human tendency to deny change, to cling to the familiar despite its flaws? Where had I read it again?

Lotte couldn't see the future, as she had reminded me countless times. However, she had a knack for reading the threads of fate, especially those tied to my destiny.

What did that mean? I didn't know.

I hadn't the faintest idea how it worked, but work it did, for her. I'd often find myself sitting down, watching her mumble under her breath as if piecing together an exceptionally perplexing puzzle. She'd sometimes liken the threads of fate to a spider's web—convoluted, intersecting, disorienting, with no specific shape or pattern. And yet, that was their inherent beauty.

When she spoke of a golden thread ending in black, it signified an opportunity that culminated in death. So, according to her, tomorrow I'd encounter this opportunity and, if I weren't prepared, it would end rather dreadfully for me.

Woo hoo!

Blast it all!

"Now that all the ingredients have been gathered, I would very much like to examine the threads once more."

Oh, crikey! Nearly slipped my mind—the ingredients! I smacked my lips with glee. Goodness, I adored alchemy. Lotte had bestowed upon me more than just a few peculiar recipes. And with those ingredients, which could easily get one tossed into the nearest dungeon, I was positively giddy about what other concoctions might be brewed.

What could it be this time? A more potent poison? Something whimsically named a Grim's Neigh? Perhaps an elixir that could summon the dearly departed? Or maybe a potion to make one invisible at the stroke of midnight? An essence to speak with animals? A draught that turns one's hair the colour of moonlight?

"So, what are we brewing today?" I asked, licking my lips.

A gentle breeze fluttered through the trees. For a moment, Lotte remained silent. But when she finally spoke, it wasn't a voice in my head; her colossal, serpent-like maw opened wide, unleashing a voice that grated like a rusty hinge.

"YOU'RE HURT..."

I tried to conceal it, but Lotte always knew. Perhaps it was time to stop hiding, at least from her.

"Yeah, they doused me in magic beast dung. Had to leg it out of school, covered in the stuff. Got some burns, but they'll mend. I slapped on that healing salve as soon as I got home."

Lotte sighed, knowing she'd never quite get through to me on this matter. She'd already armed me with weapons beyond the wildest dreams of the mundane world. If I sought vengeance, I could have exacted it long ago. I wasn't a coward; I was more than capable of wreaking havoc on those girls' lives.

One simple potion could transform them into hideous creatures—faces riddled with bristles, hunched backs with grotesque lumps, teeth falling out never to regrow, afflictions beyond the reach of even the highest-grade healing elixirs. I could concoct diseases that even the most devout priests couldn't cure. Boils that fester eternally, voices turned into endless croaks, limbs that twitch uncontrollably, and eyes that weep blood.

The alchemical knowledge Lotte had bestowed upon me was a terrifying power on its own.

But I never used it on anyone. No matter how much I despised them or how deeply they hurt me, it was a slippery slope, and I wasn't keen on sliding down it. Once I saw them in pain, I'd want more, crave their misery. Where would this cycle end? This endless loop of suffering? I feared I'd become addicted to their agony, always seeking a new way to torment them.

And even if I did it—even if I wasn’t caught in the act, but merely accused—it would be catastrophic. Not just for me, but for my father as well. The consequences were too dire, the risks too great.

I simply couldn't, for a myriad of reasons. Lotte understood these reasons too, though we often clashed. Yet, despite our disagreements, we had a profound understanding of each other.

Lotte's soothing voice echoed in my mind. "Remember, Jade, I would never compel you to act against your will. Still, I can already see the strands of your destiny coming apart, and tomorrow will be pivotal."

Anxiety gnawed at me about this looming tomorrow. What cataclysmic event would turn my life upside down?

"Any clue what's about to happen?" I ventured.

Lotte shook her enormous head. "As I’ve mentioned before, I am no seer. I am unable to foresee the future."

"Of course," I sighed.

"Now, about the ingredients I asked you to fetch," she prompted.

"Finally," I stood up, eager, "Now we're getting to the good stuff. What are we concocting?"

She fixed me with a curious look and said, "Whoever mentioned concocting anything?"