The morning sun filtered through the stained-glass windows of the Spell Licensing Hall, painting ribbons of light across the marble floor. Elara stood there with a letter clutched in her hand, the wax seal still unbroken, the words Department of Emotional Arcana – Urgent Request stamped across the front in red. That particular department had a reputation for chaos on good days and heartbreak on bad ones.
Cael approached from the far end of the hall, his stride composed, his expression unreadable as always. Thorn fluttered down to land gracefully on Elara's shoulder, blinking golden eyes that already gleamed with mischief.
"Another summons?" Cael asked, eyeing the envelope.
"Apparently." Elara turned it over, frowning. "It says they need assistance with a field experiment. Something about residual charm energy contaminating their potion reserves."
"Field experiment?" Cael's tone hinted at the precise level of dread that phrase usually warranted. "That department never conducts anything resembling science."
Thorn stretched his wings lazily. "Ah, but they make excellent tea."
Cael ignored the familiar entirely. "Miss Mirefield, the last time you assisted in a departmental experiment, we spent three days decontaminating the east wing from romantic weather patterns."
"It only rained hearts for one day," she protested.
"Precisely my point."
Still, by midmorning they found themselves standing in front of the Department of Emotional Arcana's workshop—a sprawling greenhouse-like structure filled with vines, bubbling cauldrons, and glass globes suspended in midair. Each globe pulsed faintly with colored mist, drifting like lazy balloons tethered by invisible strings.
The department head, Mistress Quilla, was a woman of indeterminate age and infinite eccentricity. Her robes shimmered between shades of rose and lilac, and her hair seemed to defy gravity. She greeted them with a smile far too enthusiastic for Cael's comfort.
"Ah, my favorite auditor and his charming disaster!" she exclaimed, clasping Elara's hands before the younger woman could even speak.
Cael stiffened. "Mistress Quilla, the report mentioned potion contamination. We're here to assess, not to participate."
"Of course, of course," Quilla said airily. "Just a small mix-up in the Affinity Draught reserves. The base formula became… self-replicating."
Elara tilted her head. "Self-replicating?"
"Each vial now attempts to create emotional resonance with the nearest sentient being," Quilla said cheerfully. "Which is an extraordinary scientific development if you ignore the minor side effects."
Cael's expression was a perfect sculpture of contained horror. "Side effects?"
"Heightened empathy, reduced inhibition, occasional spontaneous duets," Quilla said breezily. "Nothing permanent."
Thorn muttered, "That explains the singing daisies outside."
Quilla beamed. "Aren't they delightful? Now, if you'll follow me, we just need someone magically attuned to affection energy to help stabilize the batch."
Both Cael and Elara froze.
Quilla turned, eyes twinkling. "Miss Mirefield, wasn't it you who filed the recent affection-based incident report?"
Elara groaned. "It wasn't affection-based; it was an attention miscast!"
Cael crossed his arms. "Mistress Quilla, surely another mage could—"
"Nonsense," Quilla interrupted. "You two are perfect for the job. Emotional synergy is everything in this field."
"Emotional synergy?" Thorn repeated. "This is going to end beautifully or catastrophically."
Quilla clapped her hands, ignoring everyone's protests. "Splendid! You'll be working with our latest formula: the Harmonized Affinity Draught. Stabilize it, document your results, and do try not to fall in love."
Elara sputtered. "We're not—"
Cael pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's begin."
---
The lab table gleamed with vials of liquid in every shade of pink and gold. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and rain. Cael set up a containment rune while Elara reviewed the potion formula written in looping silver ink.
Thorn perched nearby, tail twitching. "I sense impending irony."
Elara muttered, "Not helping."
Cael handed her a vial. "The instructions specify equal magical input from both participants. If either side contributes too much, the potion destabilizes."
"So, teamwork."
"Precisely."
She nodded. "I can do teamwork."
He gave her a measured look. "You've said that before."
"And it worked eventually!"
The faintest twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Eventually being the key term."
They began. Elara channeled energy into the vial, a soft golden light flowing from her palms. Cael mirrored her, his aura sharp and disciplined, silvery-blue threads intertwining with hers around the glass.
The potion began to glow—a perfect blend of their colors—until Thorn sneezed again.
Elara's heart stopped. "No, no, no—"
Too late. The light swirled violently, and with a soft pop, a fine mist burst from the vial, engulfing them both.
The world blurred for a heartbeat. When it cleared, the potion shimmered harmlessly—but the air between them felt… different.
Elara blinked. "Did it work?"
Cael frowned. "Define 'work.'"
Quilla peeked in from behind a shelf. "Ah, excellent reaction! You'll start feeling the resonance shortly."
"Resonance?" Cael repeated, suspicion dripping from every syllable.
"Just temporary empathic alignment!" Quilla sang. "You'll sense each other's emotional states for the next few hours. Wonderful for research!"
Cael turned to Elara slowly. "You're joking."
Elara winced. "I wish she were."
Thorn burst out laughing. "Oh, this is priceless."
---
At first, it wasn't so bad. They resumed recording potion data while trying to ignore the faint, confusing tingle in their chests. But as the hours passed, the "alignment" became… complicated.
Every time Elara felt anxious, Cael's pen paused mid-word. When she grew embarrassed, he stiffened as though struck. When he got frustrated, she felt it like static against her skin.
"Stop feeling things so loudly," he muttered at one point.
"I can't help it!" she hissed back. "You're the one radiating disapproval like a fireplace."
"I do not—" He stopped, sighing. "Perhaps I do."
Their synchronization only deepened. At one point, Elara reached for a quill and accidentally brushed his hand. The brief touch sent an unspoken surge of confusion through them both—something warm, bright, and utterly inconvenient.
They froze.
"Don't read into it," Cael said quickly.
"I'm trying not to," she said. "But your brain is loud!"
"I assure you, my thoughts are perfectly composed."
"Oh really? Because right now they sound like—'Oh no, she touched my hand, this is unprofessional, I might actually—'"
"Enough," he said sharply, color rising faintly in his cheeks.
Thorn cackled from the shelf. "Oh, this is the best entertainment I've had in years."
Elara glared. "You're not helping either."
"I never said I would."
Cael rubbed his temples. "Miss Mirefield, we need to end this resonance before someone loses composure."
"You mean you lose composure."
"I'm already losing patience."
"Close enough!"
Despite the bickering, they continued their work, careful to avoid accidental touches or overly emotional thoughts. But Quilla's experiment wasn't finished with them.
As twilight fell, the potion on the table began to shimmer again, brighter than before. The air thickened with the scent of honey and ozone.
Elara frowned. "That's new."
Cael stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "The energy is amplifying. The potion's reacting to us."
"To our emotions?"
"Likely."
"Well, that's—oh no."
"What?"
"I just thought about how infuriatingly perfect your handwriting is."
The potion flared.
Light burst outward, wrapping around them in golden ribbons. The vial lifted off the table, spinning faster and faster until it split in two—each half hovering before them like twin hearts made of light.
Thorn shielded his face with a wing. "I told you two were trouble!"
The light pulsed once more, then dimmed, leaving behind two small crystalline drops floating in the air. Cael caught one, Elara the other.
Mistress Quilla peeked in again, positively glowing with excitement. "Marvelous! You've created an Affinity Echo. It means your emotional alignment has stabilized into tangible form!"
"In English?" Elara asked.
"It means," Cael said stiffly, "we accidentally brewed a potion that manifests mutual empathy as physical crystals."
Quilla clapped her hands. "Exactly! Perfect for emotional calibration studies. Keep them close; they'll fade in a day or so."
And with that, she vanished into another room, humming cheerfully.
Elara looked down at her crystal. It glowed softly in her palm, a delicate shimmer of pink and silver intertwined. "Well," she said, "at least it's pretty."
Cael's crystal glowed in perfect sync with hers. He tucked it into his pocket with a sigh. "This will complicate my paperwork."
Thorn snorted. "Paperwork isn't the only thing complicated."
Elara turned to Cael with a grin. "Admit it—you enjoyed this just a little."
He gave her a long look. "Enjoyed is not the word I'd use."
"Appreciated?"
"Tolerated."
She laughed. "That's practically affection from you."
His expression softened just slightly. "You're incorrigible."
"And you're learning."
---
Later that evening, as they left the greenhouse, the city bathed in a wash of sunset gold. Street vendors called out, music floated through the air, and for once, Elara felt calm.
Cael walked beside her, unusually quiet.
"Something on your mind?" she asked.
He hesitated. "Empathy potions are designed to reveal emotional undercurrents. They're not meant for… casual testing."
She nodded slowly. "You mean they make people honest."
"In a sense."
She smiled faintly. "Then I should thank you for not fleeing the lab when you realized how much I was panicking."
He gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "You're unpredictable, Miss Mirefield, but rarely dull."
"That's your version of a compliment, isn't it?"
"I'm auditing the definition."
Thorn, perched between them, yawned. "You two are exhausting."
"Good," Elara said with mock cheer. "Means we're doing something right."
They walked in silence for a while, the sounds of evening life swirling around them. Eventually, Cael spoke again, voice softer.
"When this assignment concludes, your apprenticeship evaluation will reopen. You'll have the chance to apply for independent licensing."
Her heart skipped. "Really?"
"You've demonstrated… resilience."
"That's your way of saying I'm too stubborn to quit."
"Precisely."
She laughed, the sound light against the twilight air.
At her door, she turned to him, holding up her crystal. "Until this fades, I guess we're still a little magically connected."
He regarded her crystal, then his own. "Temporarily."
"Good." She smiled. "Temporary things can still be nice."
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Cael inclined his head slightly. "Rest well, Miss Mirefield."
"Goodnight, Cael."
As she stepped inside, Thorn landed on the windowsill, watching the auditor disappear down the street. "You realize," he said dryly, "that for a man who lives by rules, he breaks them every time he looks at you."
Elara smiled softly, setting the crystal beside her bed. Its faint glow painted the room in gentle warmth. "Then maybe I'm finally learning how to cast the righ
t kind of spell."
Outside, unseen, Cael paused once and glanced at his own crystal, glowing faintly through his pocket. For a long time, he stood there beneath the fading light before murmuring to himself—
"Spell Request still pending."
End of Chapter 4