Evangeline Gearheart's Journal Entry #21

The Search for Ingredients

Date: January 2025

Today began with an air of determination as I continued my quest to gather the elusive ingredients for the potion. The mundane components—cocoa butter and powdered sugar—were surprisingly simple to acquire. The corner shop down the road offered a wealth of culinary essentials, their shelves packed with neatly labeled jars and packets. As I slid the cocoa butter and powdered sugar into my basket, I was struck by the stark contrast between these modern conveniences and the magical elements I sought.

The enchanted moss, a verdant substance that shimmered with an otherworldly glow, had always been a staple of my craft in the Old World. It was said to grow only in the shadow of ancient trees blessed by the Forest Keepers. Here, in this modern time, no such trees existed, their magic reduced to mere myths whispered in the pages of forgotten tomes. Without the guiding presence of a Heart Deer—a creature whose innate connection to the land could have led me to hidden pockets of magic—I found myself navigating unfamiliar territory.

I ventured first to the local farmer’s market, a bustling hub of colorful stalls and lively chatter. The air was rich with the scent of fresh produce and earthy herbs. I approached a vendor who specialized in rare plants, her table laden with an eclectic assortment of greenery. "I’m looking for something unusual," I began, describing the moss as best I could without revealing its true nature. She furrowed her brow and gestured toward a pot of trailing ivy, insisting it might have the "right look" for decorative purposes. I thanked her politely, though my heart sank with disappointment. It was clear that enchanted moss was not to be found here.

The search for Lumin berries proved even more perplexing. In their true form, these tiny, luminescent fruits radiated a soft, silvery light, as though the moon itself had taken root in their delicate skins. They were said to grow in the meadows of the High Plains during the solstice, their glow a beacon to nocturnal creatures. Modern berries—strawberries, blueberries, even the exotic golden berries I encountered at an upscale grocer—lacked the ethereal quality I needed. I bought a small punnet of blueberries anyway, hoping their deep, inky hue might serve as a visual substitute.

My journey took me next to an apothecary tucked away in a narrow alley, its entrance marked by an intricately carved wooden sign that creaked in the wind. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and aged parchment. Shelves lined the walls, crowded with jars and vials of every size, each labeled in spidery handwriting. A wiry man with spectacles perched on the tip of his nose regarded me curiously as I described my needs. "Enchanted moss? Lumin berries?" he repeated, his tone tinged with skepticism. "You won’t find anything like that here, but I do have some glow-in-the-dark paint. Perhaps it could give the effect you’re after?" I declined, forcing a smile as I left.

With the sun dipping low on the horizon, I found myself wandering aimlessly through the city, the weight of my unfulfilled quest pressing heavily on my shoulders. Despite the challenges, I refused to succumb to discouragement. The essence of magic lies not only in its existence but in the creativity and resourcefulness of those who wield it. Perhaps, I mused, the answer was not to find the exact ingredients but to adapt and innovate, crafting substitutes that would carry the intent, if not the essence, of the originals.

As I write this, the cocoa butter and powdered sugar rest on the kitchen counter, a promise of what is to come. Though the enchanted moss and Lumin berries remain elusive, I am not deterred. Tomorrow will bring new avenues to explore, new possibilities to uncover. The magic may be hidden, but I am resolute in my belief that it still lingers, waiting for those bold enough to seek it.