Ahead, sunlight from a skylight spilled over a raised platform. There, newly arrived products sat on pedestals waiting for Estella's final approval. Tall glass columns held swirling liquids—some a smoky amethyst, others a bright aquamarine. Each column was capped with a silver stopper shaped like a crescent moon. Apprentices hovered, adjusting the alignment by a hair, ensuring labels faced outward just so.
He moved silently along the platform's edge, passing a young mage marking down stability test results. The mage muttered, "pH stable, aura resonance within target range," scribbling quickly before darting to the next sample.
Mikhailis's heart swelled with pride. None of this existed a year ago. Estella—and Rhea's quiet counsel—had turned a modest stall into a blooming empire. He wanted to applaud right there, but instead tucked hands into his cloak pockets, continuing toward the back.
