Divinitea

A couple of days had passed, and the empty soul bottle still sat on Reuben’s desk in its wooden crate, cradled in the same soft velvet cloth, completely untouched. He gave it a thoughtful glance before finally picking it up to examine it more closely. The glass felt cool in his hand, and he set it down on the desk, lowering his chin to stare straight through its emptiness. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair and mused aloud, “What soul would you want?” But no answer came. His mind remained blank, an unsettling emptiness matching the bottle itself.

His eyes darted back and forth between the vibrant essence jar and the empty soul glass. The cards had hinted at trouble—what could possibly go wrong? Maybe they’ll fall and shatter, he considered, though he wasn’t that clumsy. Still, the thought lingered uneasily. He pushed the jar further back on his desk and carefully returned the soul bottle to its velvet-lined crate. He placed the crate on the floor, confident that it would be safe from accidental harm. Turning his attention back to the essence jar, Reuben couldn’t help but get lost in the swirl of colors within, their shifting hues enchanting him, as if daring him to decipher their mysteries.

The spell was broken by a sharp, insistent knock at his workshop door. Startled, Reuben checked the time — still early, just seven o’clock. He approached the door and peered through the narrow window beside it, spotting an elderly woman in a well-tailored pantsuit. She looked quite refined, aside from her frizzy, unkempt hair, and carried an expensive-looking leather briefcase. When he opened the door, she offered him a polite nod and a gracious smile.

“Can I help you?” Reuben asked, surprised to have a visitor at this hour.

“I certainly hope so,” she replied, her voice quiet and timid. “You’re the alchemist, right?”

Reuben hesitated slightly. “I am considered that by many. What can I do for you?”

“One of your clients gave me your business card. I’m hoping you can make me a special tea — a divinatory tea, to be precise,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of hesitation and hope.

Divination. Reuben’s smile widened as he gave a reassuring nod. “I can definitely help with that.”

“Oh, wonderful!” she exclaimed, visibly relieved. “I haven’t been able to find anyone who makes it the right way, but I hear you’re quite skilled.”

Reuben chuckled softly. “Well, thank you. I appreciate the confidence. I’ll do some research and start on this right away.”

The woman’s smile grew. “Thank you…and here’s this,” she said, opening her briefcase. Inside was a neatly bundled stack of cash held together by a paper band, alongside an assortment of personal documents. The sight of the money immediately caught Reuben’s eye. “This is the first portion of your payment — mainly for your time and the ingredients you’ll need. If you can deliver the tea by tomorrow, I’ll cover a delivery fee, and since it’s the weekend, I’m willing to pay double for the tea altogether. The address is on that slip of paper attached. If you can’t deliver it, I’ll return on Monday to pick it up. But I would really appreciate it if it could be done this weekend.”

“Tomorrow, huh?” Reuben echoed, weighing the task. “I’ll see what I can do. Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you,” she replied warmly.

With that, she turned and left, leaving Reuben a few hundred dollars richer and with a new task at hand. It was always a pleasant surprise when a client spread his name around; these unexpected visitors were more than welcome. Now, he just needed to gather the ingredients and prepare this special infusion.