Alchemically Useful:

The flora of The Brewer’s Harvest are coveted by alchemists, warlocks, witches, and desperate folk alike, not for their beauty, but for the potent, often unpredictable essence they yield. Deep in Everwealth’s glades, or clinging to damp stone in the underbrush, lie specimens like Happycap Mushrooms, soft and bulbous fungi that exude a faint, saccharine aroma. On their own, they calm the nerves or induce vivid dreams, but brewed in high-proof liquor, they’ve been known to breach the veil of perception entirely. Their cousin in enchantment, Throatbloom Flowers, bears silver-pink petals and a center of soft red threads, long prized for aiding bards and liars; teas brewed with its pollen are rumored to sharpen eloquence, while its dried leaves burned in ceremonial circles coax even the shyest tongue to spill secrets. The eerie Wailvines, often avoided by common foragers, wreathe around fallen trunks and shriek mournfully when touched, yet their fibrous innards are crucial for illusion-binders, harvested under moonlight and soaked into fear-inducing tinctures or pigment for spell-ink scrolls. Perhaps most peculiar is the rare Lumeweave Moss, clinging in bioluminescent patches to shaded hollows and forgotten cairns; when crushed into fine powder, it enhances scrying pools, and in candlelight flickers with ghostly scenes thought long past. Each of these flora, dangerous or otherwise, reinforces the kingdom’s belief that magick lingers not only in wand or glyph, but in root, petal, and spore, waiting to be unbottled by those bold enough to touch it.