Morgana walked deeper into the forest than she ever had before, her basket bouncing against her hip. The old books from the hut had shown her that rare mushrooms grew near fallen logs in the shadowed parts of Mirkwood. If she could find them, she'd make remedies no other healer in town could offer. The trees grew thicker here, blocking out the sun. Moss covered everything. She knelt beside a rotting stump and brushed away the leaves. Three pale mushrooms poked through the dirt. She cut them carefully and placed them in her basket. This forest held everything she needed—it was why she'd chosen Mirkwood for her shop. The land itself would help her dream come true. Back at the apothecary, Morgana worked by candlelight long after dark. She ground the mushrooms into powder and mixed them with honey. The paste glowed faintly in the dim room. But travelers wouldn't find her shop in the dark—not tucked away near the forest edge like this. She needed something to guide them. She found a wooden lantern in the corner and wrapped it with ivy from outside. When she lit the candle inside, warm light spilled through the leaves, casting patterns on the walls. She carried it outside and hung it near the door. Now passing travelers would see it and know someone offered healing here. The next morning, Morgana needed to learn what remedies travelers actually wanted. She walked into town and found a tea house with a steep wooden roof and wide eaves. Inside, people gathered around small tables, talking over steaming cups. She sat near the window and listened. A woman mentioned a cough remedy from the northern villages. A man described a salve his grandmother made for joint pain. Morgana pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote down everything she heard. These stories would tell her what to make next. If she could create what travelers needed, they would spread word of her shop. Her apothecary would grow, one remedy at a time.

Morgana stepped into the marketplace and breathed in the smell of roasted nuts and fresh bread. She walked past the vegetable carts and stopped at a spice merchant's table. Glass jars lined the wooden surface, each one filled with crushed leaves or powdered roots she'd never seen before. The merchant nodded at her, and she studied the labels. These ingredients could strengthen her remedies and help her stand out from the hedge witches who only knew common plants. She bought three jars and tucked them into her bag. The merchant mentioned a clearing deep in Mirkwood where rare plants grew at night. Morgana's pulse quickened. If she could gather those, her remedies would be unlike anything the town had seen. She left the marketplace and headed straight for the forest trail. The sun was already sinking below the trees. By the time she reached the clearing, darkness had settled over the forest. Then she saw them—flowers with deep purple petals and golden centers that glowed in the shadows. Night blooms. She knelt and cut several stems, placing them carefully in her basket. Nearby, mushrooms with luminescent blue and purple caps lit up the forest floor like tiny lanterns. She gathered those too, her hands trembling with excitement. These would make powerful tinctures that travelers would seek out. On her way back, she spotted old stone walls through the trees. A chapel, crumbled and covered in vines. She pushed through the undergrowth and found a spring bubbling up between the broken stones. The water was clear and cold. She filled her flask and tasted it—clean and slightly sweet. Stories in the tea house had mentioned healing waters somewhere in Mirkwood. This had to be the place. She could use this water in her remedies and tell customers where it came from. The Chapel of the Moon Sisters. Word would spread, and people would come to her shop asking for the remedies made with water from the legendary spring.

Morgana opened her apothecary door just after sunrise. Three customers waited outside. They'd heard about her remedies from travelers passing through town. She sold two bottles of cough tonic and a jar of salve before noon. Her coin purse felt heavier than it ever had. By midday, word had spread through the marketplace. She decided to set up a wooden table near the town square. Colorful potion bottles lined the surface—remedies for headaches, muscle pain, and coughs. She painted a sign offering free samples to anyone who stopped by. People gathered around the table, asking questions about the glowing mushrooms and the spring water she used. An older woman tried the headache remedy and smiled. A merchant took three bottles to sell in the next town over. Morgana's hands moved quickly, wrapping bottles and explaining ingredients. This was working better than she'd imagined. The next morning, a messenger knocked on her door. The town council wanted to see her at the Acorn Council Chamber. Morgana's stomach tightened as she followed him through the streets. Inside the giant acorn structure, council members sat around a curved table made of polished wood. They asked about her ingredients and watched as she mixed a remedy right there in front of them. One council member tested it and nodded. They handed her a certificate—official permission to sell remedies and trade with merchants from other towns. She walked back to her apothecary with the paper tucked carefully in her bag. Travelers would see that certificate hanging on her wall and know her work was trusted. Her dream was becoming real, one customer at a time.