The bell chimed, its echo trailing Cera as she entered the dimly lit shop. Her light brown hair, damp from the Seattle rain, clung softly to her shoulders. The scent of dried herbs filled her nose as she surveyed the small room. Light blue paint covered the walls, and plants on small tables near the window strained for light on the rainy day. The shop almost seemed cluttered, but despite the abundance of various items, it was remarkably clean, Cera thought as she made her way to the shelves.

  The shelves were lined with books, tarot cards, and a variety of rocks in different colors and shapes, some gleaming in the candlelight that cast a warm glow throughout the shop. Despite the approaching closing time – it was almost an hour – the shop remained curiously empty. Cera had come on the recommendation of a coworker, eager to explore this place her friend had raved about over coffee.

  "This place will give your home good energy," her coworker had suggested. "Stop by on your way home from work if you have time."

  The relentless grind of the corporate world was slowly chipping away at Cera's spirit. Once a vibrant soul who thrived on embracing the unexpected and unconventional, she now found herself reduced to simply "Cera from accounting." Her days were consumed by the glow of computer screens, filled with an endless parade of numbers and charts, a stark contrast to the free spirit experiences she once craved. A gnawing sense of alienation had taken root, a constant reminder that the business casual facade she wore never truly fit.

  She wandered slowly through the shop, her eyes set on the stones lining the shelves. "What was it again?" she murmured, searching the shelves high and low. Trying to recall her coworker's recommendations, Cera thought that the whole idea of rocks easing stress and work anxieties felt a bit out there.

  "Can I help you?" A voice startled Cera from looking at the shelf of stones. She turned to see a slender, middle-aged woman with long black hair, a single silver streak tracing its way down the side of her face. The woman's faded black dress flowed loosely over a thin frame. She offered a gentle smile, but Cera couldn't shake the feeling of being subtly scrutinized. The woman's gaze lingered a fraction too long, locking with Cera's hazel eyes before drifting down her form in a way that felt more like an assessment than a greeting.

  The woman's appraisal was now on Cera's figure, taking in the generous curve of her hips in her gray slacks and the fullness of her breasts that were revealed from Cera’s light colored blouse. Perhaps the woman found Cera attractive, but it was difficult to tell. Cera, feeling unease, offered a hesitant smile. "My friend recommended this place," she said. "She said you might be able to help me with stress?"

  The woman's intrusive scrutiny ceased as she met Cera's gaze directly, a spark of curiosity igniting in her eyes. "What troubles you, dear?" the woman inquired, taking a step closer.

  Cera, feeling a flicker of nervousness, responded, "Just a lot on our plates at work, you know?" She reached for a blackstone on the shelf, its smooth surface cool in her grasp. "Do these help with stress?"

  The woman's smile softened. "Black tourmaline is said to have calming properties, yes."

  "Perfect," Cera said, adding another stone to her collection. "Maybe I'll take a few then."

  "Forgive my curiosity," the woman began, "but what line of work are you in?"

  Cera, captivated by the shifting shadows cast by the blackstone in the candlelight, replied, "I'm an accountant for a tech consulting firm."

  “Your aura doesn't quite match what I'd expect.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You just have an energy that says free and powerful,” the woman responded gently, touching the rock in Cera’s hand. “I sense something special about you, my dear.”

  “Thanks?” Cera replied feeling puzzled as she looked down to the woman's hands glancing at the age lines of the top of her wrist and hand. The lines contrasted sharply with the age of her face. Cera couldn't help but find it strange, especially since there were no signs of surgery. They seemed to be that of someone who was at least twenty years older.

  "I have much more to offer than just rocks and intention journals that I sell to the average person."

  "I'd say I'm pretty normal, miss," Cera replied.

  "Call me Dawn Jean, dear," she replied, carefully twirling her fingers around Cera's palm. "Trust me, you're anything but normal."

  Startled by the comment, Cera stammered, "What do you mean I'm anything but normal, Mi–"

  "Dawn Jean," the woman interrupted gently, rubbing Cera's hand. It was a strange feeling, but Cera's face began to blush, and a tingling sensation spread through her body. “What’s your name?”

  "Cera," she breathed, her name escaping her lips without a second thought. The earlier unease had vanished, replaced by a sense of warmth and welcome in this unfamiliar place.

  “Cera, that's a beautiful name,” Dawn Jean replied as she rested her hand on Cera’s lower back gently nudging her to guide her around the shop “A name quite fitting for your aura and youth.”

  "Thank you," Cera replied, subtly flustered as she continued to be guided. She passed a table with small bags of herbs spread on a black tablecloth as Dawn Jean led her back to the front door.

  Outside, the rain had intensified, a low roar of thunder echoing in the distance. As they reached the doorway, Cera hesitated, unable to shake the strange feeling that had overtaken her.

  "What sort of things do you know, Cera?" Dawn Jean asked, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

  Cera glanced out at the downpour. "I know the entire Microsoft Office suite pretty well," she said with a nervous laugh.

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  "I wasn't referring to your work, dear," Dawn Jean replied, her voice soft.

  "Then what are you talking about?" Cera asked, curiosity flickering in her eyes. A lingering touch brushed down her back, gentle and warm, sending a shiver through her.

  "What do you know of magic?" Dawn Jean's question hung in the air.

  "I don't believe that magic exists, Dawn Jean," Cera replied, her voice firm despite the tingling sensation that spread through her as Dawn Jean's hand traced a path up and down her spine. A curious smile curved Dawn Jean's lips as she reached for the open sign, flipping it to the side that said closed.

  "Such a shame," Dawn Jean murmured. "Such potential, wasted."

  "What do you mean?" Cera pressed, her voice a mixture of apprehension and intrigue. She watched as Dawn Jean's wrinkled hand secured the door to the outside world. This would have bothered Cera under any other circumstance, but for some reason, she felt strangely at home.

  "Well, let me show you some things," Dawn Jean whispered gently into Cera's ear, trailing a hand down her back before brushing lightly against her bottom. A flicker of arousal danced within Cera, overshadowed by a deepening confusion. "Do you like that, Cera?"

  "I don't know," Cera answered, the question dissolving into a fleeting thought as excitement overwhelmed any reservations she might have had about the situation. Then, as Dawn Jean's hand ran down her breasts, a spark of clarity flickered. "Is this a sexual thing?" she blurted out.

  “We can explore that over tea, my dear," Dawn Jean replied with a seductive purr. Her hand returned to Cera's lower back, gently guiding her towards a door behind the counter. "There's much we need to discuss, you and I."

  "Alright," Cera muttered timidly, she felt as if her mind was racing through a fog, but Dawn Jean began guiding her again to another room. Candlelight danced across the crimson walls and dark hardwood floor, casting long, flickering shadows. Dawn Jean ushered Cera to a small table and gestured for her to sit. Cera sat almost as if she was commanded by the woman. She watched Dawn Jean move with unsettling grace, Cera saw her retrieve a book from a shelf. It was old, undeniably so.

  The dark leather cover, cracked and worn, whispered of secrets kept. The pages, stained a pale yellow, seemed to shrink back from unseen touch. The binding frayed at the edges, adding to the book's unsettling appearance.

  “I will be right back, Cera,” she said with a flirtatious grin across her face which looked more beautiful than Cera had noticed before. “Just sit and relax.”

  Cera sat in silence as she watched Dawn Jean leave the room. She could hear the water faucet running and a beeping sound coming from the room. She wondered to herself what was happening. Why did she feel different than she had when she first walked into the shop?

  "What sort of tea are you making?" Cera called out, her voice growing more curious as seconds stretched into what felt like hours. The sounds of cabinets opening and closing, along with the faint hint of water being poured, drifted from the other room.

  “Hello?” Cera called out again.

  “One of my special blends,” Dawn Jean answered as she walked back into the room. An aroma of different herbs loomed from the mug that was placed in front of her. Dawn Jean took a seat across from her with a welcoming smile. Cera lifted the warm mug looking at the steam coming from the dark liquid in a ceramic gray mug. “It just needs a little bit longer to steep.”

  “What does it do?”

  This should help you relax further. You did mention feeling stressed, didn't you?"

  Cera nodded and asked, “What’s in it?”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Why don’t you just take a little sip.”

  The mere suggestion seemed to be enough for Cera to take a drink. It had bitter licorice flavor and other almost tart flavors. “So, is the blend for sale?” Cera asked.

  “This one is a special one, it contains some very powerful properties.”

  “Like magical properties?”

  “You shouldn’t worry too much about that. You’re very interesting, actually. I should give a discount to your co-worker who brought you in.”

  Cera took another sip of herbal tea and asked, “Maybe I could pass some sort of coupon when I see her tomorrow at work?”

  Dawn Jean grinned and looked over, studying Cera again. This time, Cera started to feel strange, almost intoxicated. "I would say it's my lucky day, too," she said. "I think I was going to try meeting him looking like this."

  “Who were you going to meet?”

  "The one they call the Grey Sorcerer, Cera."

  Cera's words slurred slightly. "Who is that?" The sense of intoxication was becoming more powerful by the moment. Dawn Jean stood from her chair and walked over to Cera. “Does he do magic? Because I don’t believe in magic, Dawn Jean.”

  "It's very real," Dawn Jean said curtly. She rubbed Cera's cheek, then slid her hand down to Cera's neck and chest. "It's been a while since I've had a curvy body. It might be time to change things up."

  Cera giggled like a drunk and replied, "Hey, if you want these hips, have them. Just hope you have luck finding a pair of jeans that makes them look good."

  "Oh, I'll take you up on that offer, my sweet Cera. I must ask, how old are you?"

  "Twenty-five, a few years away from the dirty thirty," Cera laughed out loud, as she looked again and remembered seeing how the age lines on Dawn Jean's hands didn't match her face. "I have to ask something, and you don't have to answer, but who did your work?"

  “What do you mean?”

  "Well, your face looks so much younger than your hands, Dawn Jean," Cera said, fighting back the giggles. Dawn Jean continued gazing upon her, her gaze lingering on the softness of Cera's skin and her full breasts.

  "It's because after a while, my soul begins to rot the body I'm inhabiting," Dawn Jean explained. "Dawn Jean here isn't even fifty yet, but sometimes when I stay too long, my host starts to break down. That's why I'm so lucky you came in today."

  "For real? I'm so glad I came in by myself."

  “It’s almost like fate brought us together. Your looks will surely impress him, and your aura with its untapped power might even help sustain your body much longer. I think he would like this body much more than Dawn Jean.”

  “Do you have a crush on this guy or something?” Cera blurted out with a giggle. “And to think I thought you were coming on to me earlier.”

  “Well, one must make a strong impression on powerful people,” Dawn Jean replied coolly.

  "Are they really that big of a deal with a name like sorcerer?" Cera asked, snorting with barely suppressed laughter.

  Dawn Jean slid back to her seat, her hands rising into the air. A cold shiver snaked down Cera's spine as the candles erupted in a frenzy of flickering. One moment they blazed brightly, the next they threatened to dim entirely, before settling back into a steady, if erratic, burn.

  "Wow, how'd you do that?" Cera blurted out with childlike curiosity as Dawn Jean opened the book.

  “Soon you’ll see yourself do it too,” Dawn Jean said, her voice barely a whisper. The candles almost paused as Dawn Jean took a sip of her tea, then the room fell eerily silent. It was as if she had become entranced.

  Dawn Jean dipped into a low hum, her focus turning inward. Her eyes glazed over as the humming rose in volume, a sound both hypnotic and unsettling. The air chilled once more, growing stagnant and heavy. Something shifted, a presence Cera couldn't decipher through the haze of intoxication. But then, abruptly, something snapped Dawn Jean from her trance.

  A loud knock coming from the other room.