The Dreaming Tea

Hello there, traveler. Come in, please. Set your things down by the door and warm your hands for a moment. The hearth has been restless today, which usually means the weather is changing somewhere, even if we cannot quite feel it yet. You are safe here. The inn would not have opened its doors to you otherwise.

You were looking at the barrels, weren’t you?

They sit quietly along the far wall of the apothecary room, tucked beneath bundles of drying herbs and strands of apple blossoms that never quite lose their scent. Most guests pass them by without a second glance, assuming they are just another oddity among many. But those who linger, those who listen, tend to notice the sharp, bright note in the air. That is apple cider vinegar. Simple in name, humble in appearance, and far more powerful than most expect.

I learned to respect it long before I ever learned to love it.

In Lunaria, apples arrive from many places. Some come drifting in on sky barges from orchard isles that only appear during the harvest moon. Others arrive through realm doors from quieter lands, packed carefully in straw and memory wards so they do not forget where they came from. When I have enough, I press them myself in the early mornings, when the inn is still half asleep and the light through the windows feels soft and forgiving. The apples are crushed slowly, respectfully. Their juice runs gold and fragrant, catching the light like something alive.

At first, what forms is a gentle cider. Sweet, bright, almost playful. Yeast is invited in, never forced. It works quietly, transforming the sugars little by little, the way time transforms us when we are not paying attention. Tiny living helpers join the process as well, unseen but essential. I once heard them described in another realm as bacteria, a word that made them sound far less friendly than they truly are. Left alone long enough, the cider sharpens. It deepens. It becomes vinegar, bold and unapologetic, with a bite that wakes you up from the inside out.

I keep so much of it because it serves so many purposes.

Some travelers come to the inn carrying ailments that healers struggle to name. Others arrive with diagnoses whispered like curses in their home realms. One of the most common is a condition where the body struggles to manage its own sweetness. The blood, once steady, begins to surge and dip unpredictably, leaving exhaustion and confusion in its wake. In another world, they call it diabetes. Here, we speak of it as an imbalance of the inner tides.

Apple cider vinegar cannot cure such things on its own. I would never promise that. But taken with care, diluted properly, and used consistently, it can help steady those tides. It encourages the body to respond more gently to meals, softening sharp rises and easing heavy falls. I have seen travelers return weeks later, eyes clearer, hands steadier, grateful for a small tool that helped them regain a sense of control.

Others come not for blood, but for hunger.

Long journeys do strange things to appetite. Sometimes it disappears entirely. Other times it grows louder the more you try to ignore it. A small amount of apple cider vinegar before a meal can help the body recognize fullness sooner, easing that restless need to keep eating past comfort. It is not about denial. It is about listening more closely. Many find it especially helpful when their relationship with food feels tangled or uncertain.

There are also matters of the heart. Not the romantic kind, though the inn sees plenty of those, but the physical one that beats tirelessly in your chest. Healers speak often of fats that linger too long in the blood, weighing it down, narrowing its paths. Cholesterol is the word they use. Apple cider vinegar has been shown to help lower those levels over time, supporting steadier blood pressure and easing the strain on the heart. It works quietly, the way most good things do, asking only for patience.

And then there are wounds.

I always keep a diluted bottle near the back counter for cleaning scrapes and cuts. The acetic acid within apple cider vinegar creates an environment that many harmful organisms cannot tolerate. It helps keep infections at bay and can reduce swelling when used carefully. I have used it to soothe irritated skin, calm inflamed bites, and clean wounds that would otherwise fester during long travels. It stings a little, I will not lie. But sometimes healing does.

Of course, it must be respected. Undiluted vinegar can be harsh on the throat and teeth. I always encourage guests to mix it with water, honey, or even warm herbal infusions depending on their needs. The inn itself tends to nudge my hand toward the right proportions, the jars humming softly when the balance feels right.

What I love most about apple cider vinegar is that it does not pretend to be magical. It does not glow or sparkle. It does not whisper promises. It simply works, grounded and reliable, the way the best remedies often are. There is something comforting about that.

I first learned its ways under the watchful eye of Sophea, who taught me that healing is rarely about grand gestures. It is about consistency, attention, and knowing when to support the body rather than fight it. Over time, I have come to see apple cider vinegar as a quiet companion. Not glamorous, not flashy, but always there when needed.

If you find yourself wandering through Pearlstone Market and spot a merchant selling cloudy bottles with apple sediment still swirling at the bottom, do not turn away. That cloudiness is a sign of life, of the living culture still working within. Choose one with care. Ask where it came from. A good merchant will be happy to tell you.

And if you would rather not carry it yourself, well, I have plenty here at The Dreaming Tea Inn. I always do.

Before you go, let me press a small flask into your hand. On the house. Use it wisely. Dilute it well. Listen to your body when you do. Healing is never about forcing yourself into someone else’s idea of wellness. It is about finding what supports you, gently and sustainably.

The road ahead can be long, traveler. It helps to have simple, dependable things at your side. Sometimes, something as unassuming as apple cider vinegar is enough to make the journey feel just a little more manageable.

Rest for now. When you are ready, the door will open for you again.

Until Next Time,

Ella