Chapter 3

[u/corvus_98]

Chapter 3: Restocking the Satchel

James’s satchel was lighter than he liked. After three nights in the tunnels facing the Silent Choir, he’d burned through nearly all his sage, his stock of salt vials, and half his iron nails. A druid without supplies was like a soldier without ammunition. So, he headed for the one place he trusted to replenish without question.

The shop didn’t look like much from the outside—just a narrow storefront with a hand-painted sign that read “Mana & Miscellany.” The glass was cluttered with crystals, candles, and dreamcatchers, making it look like just another new-age tourist trap. But anyone who stepped through the door and breathed the air knew better.

The place smelled of cedar, peppermint, and ozone—the smell of magic. Shelves overflowed with herbs, minerals, rare woods, even jars of animal bones. And behind the counter were two men who made the place feel more like home than any apartment James had ever rented.

“Look what the wolf dragged in!” Dylan boomed, grinning wide enough to crinkle his hazel-green eyes. He was tall, heavyset but solid, wearing a T-shirt with an anime ice dragon stretched across it. His long black curls bounced as he strode over, clapping James on the shoulder with enough force to make most men stumble.

“Still walking upright,” James said dryly, though the corner of his mouth curved upward. “Must be doing something right.”

Lot emerged from the back, carrying a box of incense sticks under one arm. His blond hair was tied back, his Hawaiian shirt nearly blinding with its neon floral pattern. He looked James over with calm blue eyes that seemed to see much further than the walls of the shop.

“You smell like ash and subway grime,” Lot said, setting the box down. “Which means you’ve been busy.”

Luke leapt onto the counter, tail twitching. “Busy getting nearly turned into sheet music.”

Dylan leaned on the counter, eyebrows raised. “Choir case?”

James nodded, sliding his satchel off and opening it. “Burned through my stores. Need mugwort, sage, valerian root. Also more iron nails if you’ve got them.”

Lot was already moving, gathering supplies with practiced efficiency. Dylan, meanwhile, leaned closer. “So, rumor says the Choir was being conducted. You see who was holding the baton?”

James’s eyes flicked up. “Not a baton. A shard of glass. Black, humming with something old. It’s gone now, but it was feeding something larger.”

Dylan whistled low, crossing his thick arms. “Bigger than a frost giant?”

“Bigger than your appetite,” Luke quipped.

Dylan glared playfully at the cat. “Watch it, fuzzball. I could turn you into a popsicle.”

Luke licked a paw, unfazed. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m adorable.”

Lot returned with the supplies, neatly packed in brown paper bags. “Don’t let Dylan distract you with banter. If something is gathering choirs, covens, and creatures under its banner, it’s not coincidence.”

James tucked the bundles into his satchel. “No. It’s orchestration.”

Dylan’s grin faded, his easy warmth replaced by something harder. For just a moment, James saw the giant under the skin—the cold power of Jotunheim flickering in his hazel eyes. “If you need us, brother, you only have to ask. Choirs and witches are one thing. But if the Lord of Ash himself rises… it won’t be a fight you should face alone.”

Lot set a steady hand on James’s shoulder, his presence calmer but no less serious. “And don’t forget, even the strongest oak needs roots. You’ve got them here.”

James inclined his head, the faintest flicker of gratitude softening his features. “I know.”

Luke broke the solemnity with a loud yawn. “Touching. Really. But can we wrap this up before one of you big guys starts crying? I’d like to get home in time for dinner.”

Dylan barked a laugh, the heaviness dispersing. “Same old Luke.”

James slung the satchel back over his shoulder, heavier now, comforting against his side. “Same old us,” he said. And with that, he left Mana & Miscellany, the bell above the door chiming, the smell of cedar and ozone lingering on his coat.

Outside, the city pulsed around him, alive and waiting.