Then Niamh moves back behind the counter, giving us space. “Is there anything I can help you find today? Healing salves? Sleeping draughts? Love potions?” She says the last with a small knowing smile, one of her dark brows arching in the corner as she tosses us a look.
Poppy’s cheeks flush. “Oh, no, we’re just browsing. But thank you.”
I force myself to shake off the weight of my memories and look around the shop properly. There are so many interesting things here—hand-carved wooden boxes, bottles that catch the light, small vials of shimmering oils. On one shelf, I spot a display of colorful crystals.
“Poppy,” I say, gesturing to a bright purple one. “Isn’t amethyst good for dream magic?”
“Yeah,” she says softly, then releases my hand and walks over to examine the selection. She picks up one of the crystals, lifting it so it catches the light. “Amethyst can help provide clarity in dream states. It bridges the gap between the conscious and subconscious mind.”
“Let’s get it,” I say, reaching for my coin pouch, which is definitely lighter now after buying those books.
“Aric, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I insist, gently plucking the amethyst from Poppy’s fingers, then carrying it to the counter.
Niamh wraps the crystal carefully in cloth. As she does, she glances up at me again. “You have your mother’s kindness,” she says quietly. “She would be proud of the man you’ve become.”
I have to blink hard against the sudden burning in my eyes. I don’t know who this woman is, but I want to believe her. “Thank you,” I whisper.
She hands me the wrapped crystal, then places a small vial of something golden on the counter beside it. “For headaches,” she says. “No charge. I know final exams can be taxing.”
I stare at the vial, then back at her. It’s not time for final exams yet, but it’d probably be rude to tell her I don’t need it. So I give her a grateful smile and say, “I appreciate it. Really.”
She nods, her amber eyes warm. “Take care of yourselves. And give my regards to Aurora when you see her.”
We leave the shop, and the tightness in my chest eases a bit. Outside, the autumn sunlight feels almost too bright after the dimness of the shop. I stand there for a moment, the wrapped crystal in one hand, the vial in the other, trying to steady my breathing.
Poppy pauses beside me and tips her head back to look up at me, the sunlight catching her lavender eyes behind her glasses.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
I look down at her—at this incredible witch who somehow makes everything feel less heavy without even needing to try.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m great.”
We start walking again, slower this time, and Poppy says quietly, “If you’re okay with it, I’d love to know more about her. Your mom.” Her eyes meet mine, and then her gaze goes to my neck, where I’m wearing Ma’s ring tucked under my tunic.
And suddenly, as we walk, I find myself telling her about that trip twelve years ago. About how Ma wanted to see the countryside in the winter and how Pa drove the wagon himself instead of hiring someone, even though he hadnoidea what he was doing. How I ate so much pie that I got sick and made the wagon ride back to Wysteria an actual nightmare.
Poppy laughs at that, and the sound is bright and clear in the autumn air.
“I never thought I’d come back to Faunwood,” I say as we approach a small square where people are setting up for what looks like a market. “But... I’m glad I did.”
She looks up at me, her gaze soft. “Me too.”
I’ve wanted to kiss her so badly this whole trip, and I can’t resist it anymore. Slowly, I lean down and press my lips to hers. And Poppy kisses me right back, her lips still tasting of chamomile and honey from the tea we had back at the inn.
When we pull apart, she’s wearing that shy smile I love so much.
This place holds memories of my past, of Ma and Pa and a time before everything got complicated and I learned true pain for the first time. But it also holds new memories now, with Poppy.
And maybe that’s exactly what I needed—to remember, but to keep moving forward. And I’m glad Poppy gave me the opportunity to do that.
“Well,” I say, glancing up at the sun and using its position in the sky to determine what time it is—something Ma taught me when I was a boy. “Should we go meet Aurora now?”
Poppy nods once, her cheeks beautifully red from our kiss and the cold. “Yeah. I think so.”
HALF AN HOUR LATER, AFTER following Professor Silvermoon’s handwritten directions down a winding dirt path called Brookside Road, we emerge in a clearing in front of a yellow cottage surrounded by pines and tall aspens that’ve only just started shedding their leaves. There’s a big garden off to one side of the cottage, two horses grazing in a fenced paddock to the other, and two young girls—one with bright yellow hair, the other with long messy white hair—laugh freely as they sit together on a big tree swing.
