She sniffled. “You’re still beautiful.”
“You’re still crazy,” I said, nudging her shoulder.
She let out a tiny laugh. Just once. Then wiped her nose.
“It’s a curse,” she said softly. “Black magic takes something from you. Always. It took my youth and my beauty. And now, even the best potions I craft won’t work on me.”
I didn’t know what to say.
So I patted her awkwardly. “Maybe use your powers for good. I don’t know. Help people. Heal someone. Maybe the curse will start to crack.”
She blinked. “What fairytale do you live in?”
I shrugged and murmured. “The one where I don’t die before the Alpha Trials.”
She laughed suddenly, this time maniacally. “Get out of my shop.”
“Huh?”
“I need to brew something. New recipe. Maybe some reverse-curse elixir. No time for customers.” She pushed
