She snapped her eyes closed and tried to go deep inside her memories. He lived in a high-rise apartment on the street opposite the Founder’s Quarter. She remembered going there a lot when she first got her job at the museum because the only time she was able to see him was after work and between his daily dinners with his father and mother. She remembered the times that she used to have to attend; his mother, Agatha’s stepmother, was a kind woman, his father awful and rude. A social climber was what Selene told her once. He would find something good and keep it until he found something better.

But the apartment was always cold, and Tharin never liked it when she left belongings there, so the potion would be rendered useless.

Her phone buzzed, and she flipped it over to see that Circe messaged with the recipe.

Bethan never really liked potion-making. Simple ones like it only required certain ingredients to be enchanted; most potion ingredients could be bought from the apothecary already enchanted.

She opened the entire message.

Circe: please don’t share this with anyone because my sister will kill me if she finds out I was sharing her potions.

Ingredients:

- small vial with cork

- a white candle - size doesn’t matter ;)

- rainwater 3 ml one pinch of ash from a fireplace

- one chanted owl feather

- enchanted Poaceae (that’s grass, in case you

didn’t know)

Method:

1. Thinly slice the owl feather, and insert it into the

vile

2. Place in other dry ingredients (ash, grass)

3. Pour the rainwater in the vile, put the cork on

4. Light the candle and use the wax to seal the vial.

5. Hold the vial to your lips and say the object you want to find.

6. Place vial underneath a pillow; your dreams will show you the last memory you have of that item.

Bethan ran down the old spiral stairs. She edged around the corner to her kitchen. From the window, she saw the sky had turned to the colour of midnight; the only source of light came from the fireplace. She flicked on the switch and rummaged through the apothecary cupboard. Her mother had always dabbled with potions, so it’s possible that Bethan already had the ingredients she needed.

She pulled out a container full of different sized jars and vials. At the very bottom, she found one the size of her thumb that had a cork.

She moved on to gather the rest of the ingredients, which her mother thankfully had. She followed every direction on Circe’s clearly explained recipe courtesy of her sister Daayan. She swore under her breath. Her finger slipped, nearly dropping the vial. She caught it before it smashed to the ground. A sharp breath escaped from her lips. The ash, however, spilt all over the ground.

She tiptoed to the fireplace, cautious of the creaking wooden floors.