The smell of crushed herbs and morning dew lingered in the small apothecary, the soft creak of wooden drawers echoing as Rin arranged small jars on the shelf. Sunlight streamed through the window, catching the light dust in the air. Outside, a few villagers were already beginning to gather near the door, waiting for their turn.
"Papa! Someone's cow is sick again!" called Rhen, rushing inside, carrying a small basket filled with roots. His face was smudged with dirt, his hair sticking to his forehead.
Rin glanced over his shoulder. "Did you take the long path again? I told you to stay near the fields."
Rhen grinned. "Aunt Elira said I could. And Riven said you needed these roots for the medicine."
Behind him, Riven peeked from the doorway, clutching the handle of a tiny wooden pail. His golden eyes, now covered by the faint sheen of the sunsbreath herb, appeared a soft amber.
"I told him to hurry," Riven said softly.
Rin sighed, fond but exasperated. "At this rate, you two will run this shop without me." He took the roots and placed them on the counter. "Now, go wash up. Breakfast's waiting, and your aunt will chase you if you track mud again."
As the twins laughed and ran off, the door opened with a soft creak. A shadow fell across the floor — large, but hesitant.
"G-good morning, Healer Rin."
Rin turned, raising an eyebrow. "Ah, if it isn't Tomas. You're up early."
The man who stood before him was tall — broad-shouldered, with hands that looked more used to carrying timber than coin. His greenish hair fell in uneven waves, and his gentle brown eyes darted nervously around the shop. A faint blush colored his cheeks.
"I, uh… thought I'd help carry the supplies from the market," Tomas said, scratching the back of his neck. "The last shipment looked heavy."
"How kind," Rin said, voice polite, though his lips curved slightly. "Or are you just looking for another excuse to skip the smithy?"
Tomas froze, then laughed sheepishly. "Caught again."
Aunt Elira, who had been sorting herbs in the back, peeked out with a knowing grin. "Tomas, you should stay for tea! Rin might actually smile for more than two seconds if you do."
"Aunt," Rin said dryly.
She winked and disappeared again, humming.
Tomas coughed, clearly embarrassed. "N-no need to trouble yourself. I'll just carry the crate."
Rin chuckled under his breath and handed him a bundle. "Then at least take this to the wagon. And Tomas," — his tone softened — "thank you."
Tomas blinked, surprised by the sincerity. He nodded quickly, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Anytime."
---
Later that afternoon, the apothecary quieted. Rin carefully locked the door and drew the curtains, setting a small crate on the table. Inside were vials filled with liquid of soft rose and pale gold — potions meant not for healing wounds, but for managing pheromone balance.
He lifted one vial, watching how the light refracted through it. "This one will help shorten and ease the heat cycle," he murmured to himself. "And this… dulls the scent of an omega or alpha."
These weren't for the villagers. These were for another world — the one that still whispered in shadows, where omegas and alphas traded secrets for survival.
He packed the vials neatly into a satchel, covering them with harmless herbal packets, and slipped out the back door once dusk began to fall.
The black market was hidden beneath the old mill at the edge of town, where traders and smugglers from nearby villages gathered quietly. Rin kept his hood low, his expression calm.
"Ah, the Healer's here again," said one of the merchants, a wiry beta woman with sharp eyes. "Same goods as last month?"
"Different batch," Rin said. "Improved formula. Less side effects."
The woman grinned. "You're either a genius or a fool for selling these without license."
Rin's lips curved faintly. "Perhaps both. As long as I earned from it and helps people, I don't mind being either."
After their exchange, he left through the alley, the cool night air brushing his hair. The moon hung low, pale against the indigo sky. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to breathe — to enjoy the quiet life he had built from the ashes of his past.
---
The next morning, Rin stood by the fountain in the village square, trading a few herbs for fresh bread. The twins played nearby with the baker's children, laughter echoing through the market's hum.
Everything felt ordinary — peaceful — until a merchant's voice rose over the chatter.
"Did you hear? The First Prince has conquered the eastern fort!"
Rin's hands stilled.
"Another victory," the man continued proudly. "They say His Highness led the charge himself. Even the generals bowed before his command. Soon, he might become the Regent if the king doesn't recover."
A buzz of excitement spread through the crowd. Rin didn't turn around, but his pulse quickened.
Alaric.
The name still had power — a sharp pull in his chest he hated acknowledging.
He handed the bread back to the vendor with steady hands. "Keep the change," he said quietly, turning away.
As he walked back toward the apothecary, the sound of laughter faded behind him. For the first time in years, the calm mask he wore trembled.
Aunt Elira saw him from the window as he approached — his shoulders straight, but his steps slower than usual. She sighed softly. "Still running from ghosts, my dear nephew?"
Rin entered the shop, placing the basket down with practiced grace. "The past doesn't chase me, Aunt," he said, his tone cool but tired. "I simply prefer not to turn around."
But as he said it, a faint unease lingered — like the scent of rain before a storm.
And somewhere, far beyond the forest, the First Prince was beginning to close in once more, unknowingly tracing the faint trail of herbs that led to this quiet corner of Vareth.
---