LEAH’S POV
My fingers trace the cool glass rim of the empty storage jar.
The apothecary smells like damp soil, bitter roots, and dried lavender hanging in thick bunches from the low ceiling.
Small brass lanterns flicker along the wall shelves, casting long shadows across crates of raw minerals and rows of sealed glass vials.
Upstairs, the academy is still humming with the news of Squad 01. Down here, in the cold corridors below the Class C wing, it is quiet.
I set the vial back on the wood counter.
"Check the ledger again," I say softly.
The merchant, an old gamma with grey hair and thick leather gloves, doesn't look up from his ledger. He turns a worn page, his stubby finger sliding down a column of handwritten entries.
"I don't need to check it a third time, Miss Bellmoore," he
