Running a Tavern as a Former Witch!

The following day, I received a letter from Levi. His handwriting looked more pleasing than mine. Does he practice calligraphy?

I sat down in one of the wooden chairs by the counter and unfolded the letter, but before I could read it, Ion called to me from the kitchen behind the counter area.

"Miss, we're about to run out of onions and some condiments. Should I stop by the market?" Ion asked, peering his head on the opened door.

I glanced at the letter in my hands. With a sigh, I set the letter aside and stood up.

"No, Ion, I'll go. I could use the fresh air," I said with a smile.

I grabbed my shawl and basket, then stepped out into the bustling streets. The morning sun bathed the town in a warm glow, and the air was filled with the sounds of vendors setting up their stalls and townsfolk starting their day. I walked leisurely, greeting familiar faces along the way.

As I reached the market, the aroma of fresh produce and spices enveloped me. I made my way to Mr. Hargrove's stall first, knowing he always had the best onions.

"Good morning, Mr. Hargrove," I greeted, my voice calm and friendly.

"Ah, Miss Elara! What can I do for you today?" he replied, his eyes crinkling with a smile.

"I need a few of your finest onions, please," I said, inspecting the selection.

He nodded and began to gather the onions. "Anything else?"

"Some garlic and a few sprigs of thyme, if you have them."

"Of course, of course," he said, adding the items to a small woven basket. As he handed it to me, he added, "I hear there's a new spice merchant in town. Might be worth a look."

"Thank you, Mr. Hargrove. I'll do just that," I said, paying for my goods and moving on.

Next, I visited the spice merchant, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and an array of colorful spices displayed before her.

"Good morning," I said, approaching her stall.

"Morning! How can I help you today?" she asked with a welcoming smile.

"I'm looking for some condiments, particularly cumin and paprika."

She nodded, quickly gathering the spices. "You have a discerning eye. These are the finest quality," she said, handing me small pouches filled with the aromatic spices.

As I paid her and thanked her, I felt a sense of satisfaction. There was something therapeutic about the simple act of shopping for necessities.

On my way back, I took a moment to appreciate the vibrant life of the market. People haggled, laughed, and shared news. It was a reminder of the community we all were a part of. The community where I now belong.

I passed by an antique shop which immediately piqued my curiosity. I entered careful not to knock anything with my basket while I looked around.

In the corner, I saw a broken chunk of a glowing orb. Its faint luminescence intrigued me, and I couldn't resist moving closer. The shopkeeper, an elderly man with spectacles perched on the tip of his nose, noticed my interest.