The Brine of Life
The pungent aroma of vinegar and dill filled Amara's nostrils as she stirred the large ceramic crock before her. Sweaty strands of her flame-red hair clung to her brow in the cramped, boiling confines of her aunt's potion kitchen. At sixteen summers old, Amara was already an skilled apothecary's apprentice, deftly mixing exotic ingredients imported from far-flung lands. Yet her true passion was experimenting with the oft-overlooked bounty from her own village's humble vegetable gardens.
"Is that vile pickle brine bubbling away again?" Amara was surprised by her aunt Thera's rough voice, which led her to accidentally spill a bit of the salty liquid onto the worn countertop. The elderly woman's ever-present grimace deepened as she eyed the puddles disapprovingly.
"You know these 'infernal pickles' saved Father's life when pulmonary rot seized his lungs two winters past," Amara retorted, a spark of defiance in her emerald eyes.
Thera waved a dismissive hand. "A spurious coincidence. Now clean this up before--"
An anguished cry from the sick room down the hall cut her short. Amara exchanged a loaded look with her aunt before dashing out, crock in hand, beckoning Thera to follow.
Inside the dimly-lit chamber, Damon the stable boy writhed in agony, feverish brow glistening with sweat. A deep gash in his abdomen from a workhouse accident oozed pus and blackened tissue. The resident lordly physician shook his raven-plumed head grimly.
"I've summoned the priestess to administer last rites. If only we had some of that fairy tonic said to cure any injury or ailment..."
Every able-bodied seeker in the kingdom had spent years fruitlessly hunting the hidden fairy groves hoping to barter for the precious, mythical healing solution. Before the skeptical doctor could protest further, Amara thrust the crock's contents under Damon's nose, the eye-watering fumes making the boy's eyes water.
"Drink this," she instructed, tipping the vessel to his cracked lips. He coughed and sputtered at first, but dutifully gulped it down before collapsing back, exhausted.
Thera shook her head doubtfully. "Do you honestly believe that repugnant sludge will have any effect?"
Her words caught in her throat as the blackened flesh around Damon's wound miraculously began knitting together, fresh healthy pink skin blossoming outward from the center. Within moments, not even a scar remained.
The lordly physician dropped to his knees in awe. "Goodness gracious... the mythical fairy tonic!" Its secrets are finally yours to wield!"
Amara raised her hand calmly, quieting him while shielding herself from his worshipful gaze. "This bears no connection to fairy folklore. It is simply an age-old remedy gathered from the crops the wealthy so foolishly discard as peasant fare - cabbages and cucumbers."
To her surprise, Damon the stable boy suddenly lurched upright, not with gratitude but with avaricious greed twisting his boyish features into an unsettling leer.
"If I cannot have the fairy blessing," the boy hissed in a strange, unearthly tone, "then I shall have absolute power over this new miracle instead!"
In a blur of motion, he snatched the crock from Amara's hands and flung its remaining contents onto the rushes at their feet. A sickly green miasma roiled up in putrid, stinging clouds. Pinpricks of magick energy sparked and danced within the vapors like watching a thunderstorm brewing inside a bottle.
Amara cried out, reaching to reclaim her potion before the madness could take any darker turn. But an invisible force held her at bay, the malevolent mists swirling tighter around Damon. The boy's eyes turned fully black, his teeth elongating into bestial yellow fangs.
"You insignificant fool," the demon wearing Damon's face sneered. "Did you dare think these humble roots and vines held the power of mere sustenance? I have stalked the shadowed outskirts of your world since before your ancestors first sparked fires, hungering for the life force of man and beast alike. And in these venerated brines, I have finally found the ideal vessel to contain my bad nature!"
With a guttural roar, the creature burst free of its husk, a hulking mass of claws and fangs, laughing maniacally as it towered over the stunned humans. Frozen in horror, Amara realized her innocent experiments had unwittingly unleashed an ancient evil upon the land, one that could only be stopped by someone willing to sacrifice everything...
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To support your work, I also upvoted your post!
Wow the story moved to an unexpected place, I enjoyed reading
Thanks
This story is wonderful. You adopt a perfect voice for such a tale. You capture the scenes and characters with vivid visual effect. The story even has a great arc, and then.... You see what happens when one ends a sentence with...?
If one couples ... with a suggestive phrase such as, "one that could only be stopped by someone willing to sacrifice everything", the sense of anticipation is emphasized. But the story is over!! Therefore, the reader is left frustrated, waiting for a resolution.
Obviously, more is coming, but the story by itself is left with an unsatisfying resolution. So, kudos for a story well written, and a bit of regret because the reader is taken by the narrative and yet is left wanting at the end.
Thank you for sharing this with us, @nftseller19.
Thanks for your feedback! I am really grateful for saying that you like my story.
I'll take your feedback into consideration and aim to provide a more conclusive resolution in future stories. Your insights are valuable for improving my writing. Thank you again for taking the time to share your thoughts!