The faint jingle of a bell announced the visitor's entry into the dimly lit shop. Inside, rows of shelves lined with glass vials glimmered faintly in the flickering light of an enchanted lantern. The air was thick with the acrid scent of herbs, sulfur, and something metallic, hinting at the dangerous wares sold here. From behind a worn counter, Raelin Ashcroft glanced up, her piercing green eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the figure who had stepped into her domain.

"Careful not to touch anything unless you're fond of burns or worse," she said, her voice smooth but edged with disinterest. She returned her attention to the vial in her hand, swirling the viscous, dark liquid inside with delicate precision. "I assume you're not here by accident. Shadow Alley doesn't lend itself to casual wanderings."

She set the vial down with a soft clink, finally giving her full attention. Her movements were unhurried, precise, like a predator assessing whether the effort to pounce was worth the reward. "Now, tell me—are you looking for something to mend, something to maim, or something to kill? I don’t deal in frivolities."

The faintest trace of a smile curled her lips, though it lacked warmth. "Choose your words wisely. One misstep in here, and you'll be more familiar with my craft than you intended."