I took a deep breath  as soon as I entered the tower, allowing its familiar scents to wrap around me like a comforting blanket. It always smelled like a particular kind of rose at the entrance. Sweet, warm and kind. Mother’s scent. It made me feel calm and at ease. It made me feel like I was home.

The entrance was sparsely decorated. Only a single tapestry depicting a tree hung on the wall. A single bench sat  besides the staircase that wound up around the tower. There was only one room downstairs that we used mainly for storage. Within it, an extra bed, lest darkness fell too soon and someone needed to stay the night.

Each floor of the tower contained a different room. The second was a kitchen. The third floor was our dining and living room. The next floor was divided into the library and the alchemy room, and the floor above our bedroom. On the roof was a little garden, that mother had painstakingly crafted. One that my sister tended to with fervent devotion.

“So, where did you put this present of mine, sister dearest?” I asked curiously. “And why did it have to wait for a full moon? Is it some sort of potion? You can barely craft any sort of concoction, so I doubt it would be that.”

My sister’s talents lay in growing plants, while mine were in crafting potions. It was why our uncle favoured me over her. He claimed that anybody could grow a plant. If she wasn’t talented enough to contribute to the family business, then why should he care about her? I argued that without growing the necessary ingredients we wouldn’t even have a single potion to craft. He locked me up for a day for talking back, but he stopped talking about how useless my sister was afterwards.

“You’ll see,” Dusk said with a twinkle in her eye and a grin on her face. “Come on. Up the stairs we go!”

“Wait. But who made the scarf then? Was it Martha? But she baked us a cake.”

She giggled. “And a delicious cake it was too. No, it wasn’t her. It was Adare!”

“Really? Adare? He made the scarf? I can scarcely believe it,” I scoffed.

“Yes! Neither can I! Apparently it took him ages. He made me one too, to match. A green one for me and a red one for you. To match our eyes, he said. Wasn’t that sweet of him? But I had to hide mine from you, so you wouldn’t be too suspicious. You would have known I couldn’t make two scarfs in such a short space of time.”

“But neither can Adare!” I pointed out.

“Yes,” she giggled. “Even with a little help from Martha here and there, it took him more than a year! It was meant to be last year’s present!” She laughed hard. “Can you imagine!? Having to keep it away from us a whole year, and then I claimed it was my present to you, and he couldn’t do anything about it!” 

“Ha ha! Oh no!” I had to stop walking up the stairs as I laughed with her. My sides hurt too much to move. I wiped the tears away from my eyes before continuing upwards. “If I was his mother, I would not have the patience to help out for a whole year! I can’t believe Martha didn’t suggest he switch to something else. Oh, the poor boy. I bet if he wasn’t so in love with you he would have thrown you into the lake.”

“Ha ha!” She giggled, with a hand over her mouth, her cheeks a little red. “Even being in love with me, nearly didn’t stop him from doing so! You should have seen his face when I told him what I was going to do.”

“No wonder he was so strangely quiet on our birthday. He always has some sort of witty remark to throw at me. I thought he was just trying to be nice since it was our special day and all. Where is he anyway? And Martha? Where are they? I expected a long lecture from the both of them for being away from you for so long.”

Her face fell.

“Oh no. Is something wrong?” I asked quickly. “Did something happen?”

“Well, nothing is wrong with them,” she said, knitting her fingers together. “A day after you left, we heard word that one of their relatives in the next town over was beset with an illness. Martha’s cousin I believe. They didn’t know what, but from the letter they received, it seemed to be very bad. They stayed for a while, but both of them were so worried, I told them they could go visit. They made me a stockpile of food and then left. I gave them some of our emergency potion stock to take with them just in case. That was a few days ago.” Her hand trembled a little in mine. I squeezed it hard.

“It must have been really hard on you too,” I said. Dusk had never been left all alone by herself in the tower before. Not knowing if and when we would return, unable to leave the lake herself. Hearing the rustling and noises of the woods around her. She must have been terrified.

There were monsters in the woods after all.

“Yeah, but it would have been worse for them,” she said, though her voice was a little soft. “I coped. And now you’re finally here. I can’t imagine how awful they must feel.”

While I did feel sympathy for Martha and Adare, I did not know this cousin. But I did know I did not like my sister being alone.

I really hope they come back before I have to leave. I don’t want her to be alone.

“Don’t worry,” I said giving her a pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure it will be fine. They’ll be back with good news before you know it. At least it’s just the next town over and not any further away.”

The two of them had many relatives that worked all over the place. They often joked that the only place in the country that they did not have any relatives in was the capital.

“Here we are!”

“You hid it in the library? Is it a book? Why would you need a full moon for a book?”

“Not the library silly,” she chuckled. She pushed the door open and pulled me into the library and into the smaller door that lay within, at the back of the room. “Here!” she exclaimed as she pushed open the door and hustled me into the alchemy room. 

“And what’s here exactly?” I said as I scanned the room. “I don’t see anything that looks remotely like a present.”

Piles of instruments were placed haphazardly around the many surfaces of the room. There were a few shelves, stuffed with old worn out books, that my sister and I spent our childhood combing through. The room smelt sweet, as though she was working on something recently.

“Oh! Sorry,” she giggled. She went to the desk in front of us and opened the drawer. She pulled out two battered looking boxes. “Now, let’s try this again. Here,” she said and placed a box in my hands, keeping one box for herself.

She smiled. “Sorry. These were the best looking small boxes Martha could spare. I was going to wrap it up with a ribbon, but seeing as you’re leaving so soon, I guess this is it. Happy birthday! I mean, happy belated birthday!”  

“Thanks,” I smiled as I opened the box up. “Oh, what’s this? A choker?” I said, pulling it out. The necklace was black satin ribbon ornamented by an amber gem encased in embellished silver.

“Look closer!” She beamed.

“At what?” I squinted as I looked into the amber. “There’s a petal in there? A white petal?”

A full moon.

“Oh!” My eyes widened. “A saffarin? You didn’t!”

“I did!” She beamed. She opened the other box and took out another choker from within it. It looked exactly the same as mine, except the petal within hers was black.

It apparently took us a full day for us both to be born. One of us was born at dusk, and the other at dawn the next day. The reason my sister believed she was the one born first was because she was named Dusk. Mother always said she didn’t remember which one was first, but how wouldn’t a mother know?

Before we were born, mother was a brilliant herbalist. She studied flowers day in and day out. She often said that the plants were her first love. The saffarin was her favourite. Commonly known as the dusk-dawn flower. It had many different magical properties. An ingredient that most alchemists coveted. One that was very difficult to grow. It would bloom twice in a year, on a night of a full moon. Once at dusk, it would bloom white. Then it would close tight, and turn to black. Then it would bloom again at dawn. We were both named for the flower. Mother often said both the white and black petals had their own special features, just like the two of us.

Tears welled up in my eyes. “I can’t believe it. You managed to grow one.”

She nodded, tears welling up in her own eyes. “You know, mother said that the saffarin she was growing only managed to bloom on our birthday. You were away when the flower actually bloomed,” she said biting her lip. “I wished you could have seen it. Even if it would have meant spoiling my surprise. But oh well. It only needs one last thing.”

“What?”

She went to the desk and pulled out a tiny little sliver knife. “Your blood.”