The floorboards groaned beneath Eddie's feet as he made his way down the twisting staircase. Wooden trays filled with potion extracts sat snugly under his hand. The narrow spiral felt like it was plunging into the depths of the abyss, endless, each twist echoing the chaotic thoughts racing through his mind.

“Old man and his riddles,” he muttered, the annoyance simmering below the surface. “Why can’t he just say what he means for once?”

He clenched the rail, trying to wring out his frustration like it was a stubborn drop of water refusing to let go.

“Alchemists and their obsession with fables and metaphors,” he continued, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. “It’s like every little thing is tangled up in a wild, twisty tale. What’s up with ‘the falcon that wouldn’t fly’ or ‘the fire that wouldn’t burn’? Seriously, what does any of that even mean?” He could practically see his dad’s teasing grin at his annoyance, which only cranked up his irritation even more.

Eddie thought all that fancy jargon was making things too confusing. Alchemists are quirky. Even inside the magical community, choosing riddles and analogies that only they understood. It made alchemy one of the toughest magical disciplines to learn. The spells couldn't be done from a book. Years of training, insight, and, most frustratingly, a thorough comprehension of complex ideas were needed.

“Just spill the beans on what I need to do, for gods sake,” Eddie muttered, shaking his head in exasperation. “Seriously, is it that difficult?”

Reached the middle landing. Eddie saw Weshaven's cobblestone streets from the circular window. The townspeople went about their daily routines, little figures hurrying to and fro, blissfully unaware of the possible philosophical conversations taking place in the alchemical tower's lofty confines.

“If deciphering allegories is the secret to being a good alchemist,” Eddie remarked with a wry grin, “Then I’d say I’m much better off just sorting herbs and sorting vials.”

The twisting staircase at last opened up to the dimly lit lower chamber of the apothecary. A comforting, rich aroma of herbs mingled with the sharpness of metal enveloped him, pulling him firmly back into the realm of the tangible.

“Forget the Fire Falcon,” he grumbled under his breath. “I’d much prefer to stay grounded, thank you very much.”

-o-

Eddie entered the Brewing Room. His eyes squinting, needing a moment to acclimatise to the soft glow that seeped through the lofty windows, casting gentle shadows in the room. The warm scent of crushed herbs and brewing potions enveloped him, while the soothing sounds of bubbling cauldrons and the gentle clink of glass danced in his ears.

“Morning, Edward!” boomed a voice from the far end of the room, echoing with the kind of enthusiasm that could wake the dead.

Markus Fletcher, a broad-shouldered boy with wild chestnut hair, crouched over his messy desk. His huge, calloused, and surprisingly skilled hands stirred a boiling mixture that exhaled a delicate, rose vapor between vials and jars. With his sleeves pulled up, his sinewy arms showed signs of hard labor, making him appear more like a fisherman than a potion maker. His hand was soft as a whisper, treating each component like the most valuable gem in the world despite his tough look.

“Finally decided to join the land of the living, huh?” Markus teased, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the room.

“Morning, Markus.” Eddie offered a half-smile. “You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Markus shrugged. “Thought I'd get in early on today's orders. Since I had a pot of muscle-repair remedies cooking, I decided to explore! How about some agility or reflex remedies?” He smiled at Eddie. “Make those sailors move like half their age, you know?”

Eddie looked curiously at Markus's messy workstation's many jars and vials. Tiny bones, twisted roots, and what looked to be an elusive bird's sparkling feather mixed with Markus's jumbled handwriting on the parchments. The air surrounding him was full with deliberate chaos. It resembles the man's unconventional yet efficient methods.

“Eddie, you’re late.” A calm, measured voice interrupted them.

Eddie looked right to see Lydia Grey at her neatly organized desk, a beacon of order among the mayhem. Lydia organized her work station with near-obsessive perfection. In perfect order, ingredients had labels in a neat, flowing style, vials and jars held the proper quantity of crushed herbs or powdered minerals, arranged by category and color. The polished tools on the table shone everywhere.

Lydia exuded the aura of serene confidence. Her tall, slim physique and black hair in a ponytail emanated an aura of a person that is hard to disrupt. With a steady gaze, her icy brown eyes examined Eddie. She was patient and never sugarcoated anything, but her voice was stern today.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“What took you so long?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she pivoted back to her bubbling cauldron. “I could have really used that dried dragon blood half an hour ago!”

“Yeah, my bad,” Eddie said, lifting the tiny, stuffed case he had dragged down from the tower. “I was gathering the ingredients up at the alchemical tower, and Dad… well, you know how he gets.”

“Ah, another one of Mr. Welton’s lectures?” Lydia’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes remained focused on her work. “Let me guess—something about the transformative nature of life, using birds as a metaphor for the evolution of magical principles?”

“You could say that.” Eddie let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head as if the universe had just thrown him a particularly annoying curveball. “There are moments when I wonder if he’s on a plot to cram as many twisted metaphors as possible into my brain.”

“Or maybe he’s just trying to get you to think,” Lydia said. Carefully pouring just the right amount of dried dragon blood into her cauldron. “He’s always had a knack for pushing people to look past the surface.”

“Yeah, but there’s pushing, and then there’s pushing ,” Eddie grumbled, though with little heat.

“Hold on, hold on… What kind of lecture are we talking about here?” Markus asked. “So, did you botch the process again, or did something blow up this time?”

Eddie let out a dramatic sigh, his hand finding its way to the back of his neck as if trying to massage away the weight away. “That’s not how it goes, Markus.”

“I was just wrapping up some extracts upstairs when he launched into a speech about freedom and potential, and, well…”

Eddie paused. A swirl of annoyance and disbelief bubbled up inside him as he remembered the events that had just unfolded. “Dad just went and set free one of the rare blue songbirds I’d been helping him look after since I was a kid. It flew straight out the window!”

“Wait, freed?” Markus's eyes went as wide as saucers. “Are you talking about the Blue Eshari Songbird?” The one we've been plucking feathers from for what feels like ages?” He shook his head, a low whistle escaping his lips. “That bird’s got a price tag that could make the mayor himself jealous, Ed. What did he just say?”

“Yup, that’s precisely what I was thinking,” Eddie grumbled under his breath. “I asked him why he let it go, and he said something like” Eddie then started to mimic his father’s rough yet airy voice, “‘Sometimes, Eddie, just like that falcon, we get a little too comfy in our cages.’ Whatever that means.”

Markus shook his head, a thoughtful scratch at his chin revealing the gears turning in his mind. “Still, that bird was totally worth a fortune. And the Weltons—no offense—aren’t exactly swimming in treasure these days.”

Eddie nodded, a familiar pang of frustration bubbling up inside him. “Yeah, that’s the thing. We’re famous for being the go-to place for the best source of medicine in Weshaven, but with all the bills piling up and debts looming over us… let’s just say we’re not exactly rolling in it like everyone assumes.”

Lydia, immersed in her potion-making, didn’t even glance up as she spoke, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Eddie, I think you’re missing the point of your dad’s gesture,”

“What’s the point then?” Eddie asked, turning to face her with a faint frown. “He just watched something precious slip right through his fingers. What are we supposed to gain from that, besides diving deeper into financial troubles?”

Lydia’s gaze held firm as she locked eyes with him.

“Maybe it’s not just about the money, Edward. Your dad has always been more invested in people— in life and growth—than in chasing after profits. That bird was more than just a tool in his arsenal. It was a creature that breathed and moved, full of life and mystery.”

“Right…” Eddie shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. He shot a look at Markus, half-hoping for a witty comeback, but surprisingly, Markus was silent, a contemplative expression settling on his features.

“So, what do you think I should do?” Eddie asked, tilting his head slightly. “Should I just free everything else that’s not making us money and hope it all works out?”

“No, Edward.” Lydia’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “You’re young. Go outside, experience the world, and stop rotting away in your bedroom.”

Lydia’s eyes softened, “Though, It’s a suggestion.” There was a touch of concern in her voice now. “Markus and I aren’t that much older than you, you know? But we’re out here every day, trying to figure things out. You’re not giving yourself the chance to see what you’re capable of. What you really want.”

The sliding window connecting the Brewing Room to the storefront swung open, revealing Mrs. Welton’s cheerful face. She glanced around the room with a knowing smile, her gaze lingering on Eddie before turning to Markus and Lydia.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, though her tone was light and teasing.

“No, Mrs. Welton,” Markus said with a sheepish grin. “Just giving Eddie a bit of advice.”

“Ah, well, there will be plenty of time for that later.” Mrs. Welton’s smile brightened as she held up a small parchment list. “We’ve got a new batch of orders from the harbour. A few of the captains are requesting remedies for seasickness and muscle fatigue.”

“Already?” Lydia glanced at the clock on the far wall, surprise flickering across her face. “They’re earlier than usual.”

“Yes, seems like there are some big cargo shipments coming in this afternoon,” Mrs. Welton replied. “So let’s get started, shall we?”

Eddie exchanged a quick look with Lydia and Markus before nodding. “Sure thing. I’ll get the extracts ready.”

“And I’ll handle the preparation for the sea sickness remedies,” Lydia added, rolling up her sleeves and turning back to her workstation with renewed focus.

“Which leaves me with the muscle fatigue potions,” Markus said, cracking his knuckles and grinning. “I’ve got a few ideas I’ve been wanting to try.”

Mrs. Welton’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Make sure you follow the guidelines this time, Markus. We don’t want another ‘incident’ like last month.”

Markus held up his hands in mock innocence. “No worries, Mrs. Welton. I’ll keep it strictly by the book.”

Mrs. Welton nodded and left the window, leaving the three to work with a quiet giggle. Eddie breathed deeply, sensing the apothecary's cadence. Despite the confusion, uncertainty, and residual bitterness, being here with Lydia and Markus, surrounded by potion producing noises and scents,

It was comfortable.

For now, at least, it felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.