[Meredith].
In the days that followed, reality finally settled in.
No matter how carefully I had sorted, preserved, and prepared the herbs we had gathered, it became painfully clear that they were not enough—not for what I wanted to do.
The teas for headaches needed to be fresh to retain their potency. The healing balms required quality herbs, the kind that carried strength in their scent alone. And that strength did not live here.
By the seventh morning, after inspecting another batch and feeling that quiet dissatisfaction coil in my chest, I finally admitted the truth to myself.
I had no choice. I would have to return to Moonstone.
The realization sat heavy, unwelcome, but unavoidable. So, I pushed aside my unease and focused on what I could control.
I delegated the morning work at the workstation—washing jars, monitoring the drying fruits, and reorganizing the shelves- to my maidservants, giving clear instructions before stepping away.
