I have a really long unpronounceable name that has a lot of title's that mean nothing here, yet. So let's just call me Lady Ara. I am not really a lady of anything that exists anymore, but I kept the title. Ara just feels empty without it. My birth town of CrowneHill fell years ago to NevaWhenther, where I currently make home remedies and potions in my mother's shop- apothecary. However, she never really liked that term.
It's not what I want to do. It has never been, but I am all that survives of my family bloodline. I feel that it's my responsibility continue running the shop, for her and the town. I would rather lead or become a hero to protect the city from trolls and goblin thieves or even fulfill my title's, yet I have no idea how to accomplish that. Perhaps by marrying a nobleman, not that anyone would have me.
My reputation is the worst even compared to the combination of the town fool and the town drunk. I might as well be the devil to the town folk. Something about being a witch just makes people want to stone you to death. Though this is not 300 years ago where my ancestors would have been hung. Fortunately, I have managed to convince them that I do not use any magic whatsoever in my potions. I am "allowed" to exist simply because the magic they curse saves their lives.
I lived alone making remedies from the age six to probably twenty-eight with no excitement and no thrill for life after I had lost my mother. I almost had nothing to live for, and maybe God had heard my suffering. Sending me life in the form of an elf. We have had elves here in town before but none like this extraordinary boy who walked into my mother's shop...