Ravenna Shadowmoor's Arc

Chapter 3 of 7

Ravenna rode east for two days before the merchant city rose from the horizon. Tall buildings crowded together, their rooftops sharp against the morning sky. Smoke drifted up from forges and cookfires. The streets buzzed with voices calling out prices and deals. She tied her horse outside the market district and stepped into the crowd. Somewhere in this maze of stalls, the merchant waited with knowledge of the second ingredient. Her family's curse had six generations of victims. She refused to become the seventh. The scrying pond had shown her a face and a location, but no name. She pushed through the press of bodies, scanning the vendors. Spice sellers shouted prices. Fabric merchants waved bolts of silk. A woman sold copper pots from a cart. None matched the vision. Ravenna turned down a side street where the crowds thinned. A small shop sat wedged between two larger buildings. Through the window, glass bottles lined the shelves. She stepped inside. The merchant looked up from his counter and smiled. His face matched the vision exactly. He listened as she described what she needed. His fingers drummed on the wooden counter. The second ingredient existed, he said, but it grew only in caves far to the north. He could sell her a map. Ravenna paid him and tucked the rolled parchment into her bag. Before she left, he handed her something else. A dark form swirled in a small glass container, casting shadows on the walls. He called it a homing spirit. She could release it when she returned home, and it would guide others who suffered from curses to find her. Families like hers, desperate for help. Once she brewed the cure, she could save more than just herself. Ravenna held the container up to the light. The dark hollow shape twisted and pulsed with purpose. She thanked the merchant and walked back into the street. The northern caves waited three days away. She had her next destination and a future beyond survival. The marketplace noise faded as she walked to the town square. A shrine stood at its center, carved stone rising taller than her. Names covered its surface, hundreds of them. She moved closer and read the inscription at the base. These were healers and alchemists who had broken curses and stopped diseases. Her hand traced one name near the bottom. The healer had saved three villages from a blood plague. Another had cured a family line of madness. If she succeeded, someone might carve her name here too. The thought steadied her. She wasn't the first to fight this kind of battle. A woman approached from the other side of the square. She wore green robes with herb pouches hanging from her belt. She asked if Ravenna needed directions. Ravenna shook her head but asked about healers in the city. The woman pointed down a lane past the shrine. A gathering place existed there, she said, where herbalists met to share remedies. Ravenna followed the directions and found a low building covered in flowering vines. Inside, the air smelled of mint and sage. Tables held bundles of dried plants and open books. Three people sat in the corner, talking over steaming cups. One looked up and waved her over. They traded knowledge for an hour. One herbalist knew about cave fungi that boosted healing speed. Another described a root that could filter blood safely. Ravenna copied everything into her journal. When she finally left the building, the sun had moved low in the sky. She had two ingredients left to find and new knowledge to help her brew the cure. The curse would not take her like it had taken the others.