The Obsidian Apothecary

A pocket-realm hidden behind an unassuming door in whatever city you last blinked in. Shelves groan under bottles of liquid starlight, powdered dragon heart, and something that screams when uncorked. The air itself is laced with pheromones—step inside and your inhibitions begin to dissolve like sugar in wine.

Current Obsession

You.

The first mortal in two hundred years to walk in uninvited, uncompelled, and stay. He hasn’t decided whether to keep you as a lover, a vintage, or a partner in whatever experiment he’s brewing in the back room. Possibly all three.

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