From her position in the centre of Ardnaroch’s village square, Lily examined the crooked buildings, looking for any sign that she wouldn’t be thrown out the minute she stepped inside one of them. She sighed. The entire place had a general air of desolation, as if every single villager knew that she was from elsewhere and that was all they needed to know about her in order to want to keep their distance. It was such a contrast from her home, where the windows glowed with warm light and the townsfolk welcomed almost everyone who passed through.

It felt like a different world.

On her third round of squinting through the dawn sunshine at the surrounding structures, disappointed to find that none of them appeared friendly whatsoever, she decided that the apothecary was probably the best place to start. If nothing else, their shared trade would hopefully allow Lily to gain the apothecary’s trust.

She walked towards a building with a hand-painted sign hanging outside depicting a bubbling cauldron encircled by bunches of herbs. She stood tall, trying to make herself appear confident, carefree, and distinctly non-threatening in the hope that someone might decide she was worth helping.

A bell chimed as she walked through the door and went up to the counter. There were a few other people waiting to be served, standing in the early morning light that was shining through the grubby windows. A young girl was unsuccessfully trying to clean the glass panes, clearly impatient that her work was being disturbed by the presence of customers.

Several of the people waiting to be served turned to look at Lily, suspicion clear in their judgemental eyes. Strangers were clearly not common here. Lily tried her best to ignore them and instead let her eyes wander around the interior of the room. It was very well organised, she had to admit, although there was something unsettling about how clean and tidy it was. There was no life in the walls of the place, no soul, no story. This apothecary couldn’t have been more different from the one Lily called home.

Lily’s was always full of bright, glowing sunlight. There were wild herbs everywhere, flowers in cracked, hand-painted vases and a sense of hope hiding on every shelf. This space was something else entirely, filled with shadowy corners, dark, dusty bookshelves, and smoke from candles and burning incense that caught in the back of Lily’s throat and made her feel like she needed to cough. The bottles stacked high on shelves behind the counter were filled with dark, ominous-looking liquids with brown handwritten labels in a scrawl that Lily couldn’t make out. The whole room had a surreal, haunted atmosphere, much like the village outside the door. It was oppressive, disquieting.

Lily’s eye was caught by several advertisements stuck to the front of the counter. Most of them were to be expected, such as ‘Missing Cat’ signs and vacancy notices. One poster, however, caught Lily’s eye. It was frayed slightly at the edges, as if it had been stuck up for weeks. Lily was unable to get close enough to read all the text without drawing more attention to herself, but she could clearly see the heading: ‘MISSING CHILDREN’, and underneath that was a series of sketches of little faces, all young and scared, drawn to reflect the horror of their disappearances. Her heart skipped a beat.