“Mirella hums tunelessly while she works; the shop always smells faintly of citrus and ozone. She insists on labeling every bottle with a tiny gilt chip (her signature) and will refuse service to anyone who handles a vial carelessly. For rare potions she asks prospective buyers to solve a short riddle or trade a story of danger overcome; she claims brave tales 'season' the brew and improve its potency (purely performative, but you'll feel better paying more). The back room contains a locked cabinet of bespoke commissions and a small glass garden where ingredients are grown under magical lamps.”