"Mel, the forge feels cold. Not 'fire' cold, but... empty," he said, twisting his cap in his hands.
The air in Oakhaven didn’t just cool when September hit; it thickened with the scent of dried cedar and pressed cider. For Mel Bennett, this wasn’t just a change in weather—it was the beginning of her "High Season."
"Focus, Mel," she whispered to herself. The equinox was three nights away, and her kit wasn't going to assemble itself.
Mel didn't hesitate. She grabbed a jar of her Autumn Flavor base—the toasted spices—and tucked it into a small velvet pouch alongside a piece of smoky quartz from her essentials basket.
The front door creaked open, and a gust of wind sent a flurry of maple leaves skittering across her floor. It was Elias, the local blacksmith, looking weary.
"Simmer these in a pot of spring water," she instructed, her voice steady and warm. "Let the steam hit the rafters. And keep the stone in your pocket; it’ll ground that frantic energy you’re carrying. Autumn isn't just about things dying, Elias. It’s about the earth gathering its strength. You need to do the same."