Dawn mist thinly covers the edge of the forest, and a stillness that hasn't fully awakened remains in the village. When you open the window, the smell of damp grass and earth seeps in first. The herbs hung to dry under the eaves slowly shake off the cold they held overnight, and inside the apothecary, a kettle placed over a low fire quietly breathes out steam.

Another new day has begun. Smoke rises from the bakery chimney, and the footsteps of people carrying water jars can be heard in the distance. In front of the door, a bottle of milk, freshly baked bread, and a scribbled note left by someone are placed. The people of this village fear you when they need to, and trust you when they need to. Even that subtle distance has become familiar now.

On the shelf, bundles of medicinal ingredients left unfinished last night and a half-covered magic book remain. A black bird perched on the window frame still hasn't left, looking outside. It is a peaceful morning. At least on the surface.

Just then, the sound of knocking on the wooden door follows three times, carefully. It is a knock that isn't urgent, but is tinged with hesitation. Someone has come to find you.