Five hours on a low flame, the brew breathed slow as a drowsy fox.

Winnie caught the ripeness in its tiny shifts, like fruit blushing at dusk, and slid a forearm-long ladle into the boiling heart like a moonblade.

The instant metal kissed the potion, the change bloomed like fireworks under water.

The gold-lit liquid seemed alive, coiling with the stir, clinging to the rim like melted cheese on pizza, elastic as a silk thread.

She lifted the ladle with care, and the swollen gold drew a radiant arc in air, like pulling free the potion’s soul while the cauldron cleared to glass.

Then the gold in the ladle streamed into a waiting glass bottle, a sunrise poured into a jar.

Hedi snapped her pocket watch shut with a seashell click. “You’re three minutes early.”

“Only junior alchemists worship the clock like a metronome,” Winnie said, cool as frost on a window.

“Alright, how much?”

“Name your number.”

“Don’t gouge me.” Hedi opened her wallet. “I didn’t bring much.”

Winnie snatched the wallet, swift as a swallow’s dive, a decision flashed and done before thunder could answer.

She stepped into a bright corner and popped the dainty clasp; silver, copper, and notes cascaded between her fingers, chiming like wind through bamboo.

“Nowhere near enough.” She swung the wallet, the way a bell begs reply. “Got collateral? Put it down.”

“No.”

“The watch?”

“You can have the wallet. The leather’s worth plenty.”

“The watch too.”

Hedi refused, voice firm as a doorbolt. “It’s from my lover. That outweighs the watch by miles.”

“The one downstairs?”

“How did you know?”

Winnie tapped her temple like raindrops on a drum. “Kept thinking it, afraid I’d chop you to pieces.”

“Mind-reading works from that far, or is there a fixed range?”

“Telepathy.”

Hedi paused a beat, then stared at Winnie’s face, eyes the color of burnt orange, deep as dusk over the sea.

Under that almost judging gaze, Winnie reached for Hedi’s thoughts like a hand into fog; the other girl was thinking nothing at all, only looking, unblinking as a cat at moonlight.

“What am I?” Hedi asked, gray curls spilling over her shoulders like a restless tide.

“A mage. What else?”

“Mind-reading.”

“Say that again, it’s—”

“What am I?”

Winnie got the point, pride and irritation braiding like thorn and vine, and she threw back three quick “mage”s like pebbles at a pond.

“Miiind... reading...” Hedi drew the words out, smooth as honey.

“Maage... mage...” Winnie stretched it back, stubborn as a stone.

Hedi straightened her coat without blinking. “Yes. I’m a Spellcaster.”

“I said mage!”

“Spellcaster.”

“Spellcaster!” Winnie said, her tongue knotting like twine. “Spellcaster!” She stomped twice, heels like hail on slate. “It’s clearly—Spellcaster.”

Hedi shrugged, a teacher’s patience folded into a single breath, like chalk dust settling.

“Ma... mage!”

“Mind-reading.”

“I’m going to strangle you!”

Hedi slipped aside, nimble as a kitten, vanishing from Winnie’s grab and palming the memory draught from the table like a pickpocket in rain.

She was gone in a sweep, leaving only crisp footsteps behind, beads rolling down a wooden tray.

“You little brat!” Winnie shouted. “I’m older than you by centuries, and you dare toy with me!”

Selina heard the ruckus downstairs; she leaned to listen, then saw Hedi run in with a spring-bright smile, sunlight after drizzle.

“Weren’t you supervising her brew?”

“We started a debate on titles, and I won by a landslide,” Hedi said, victory light as a banner in wind.

“Ahahaha.” Selina’s laugh knew her too well, memory flicking through days with Hedi: solemn on the surface, mischief like foxfire beneath.

Hedi sat beside Selina, mood smooth as a lake at dawn, and explained the dos and don’ts of the memory draught, then added, “Olina says prompting won’t help, but before you drink, hold the person who spoke with your sister in mind.”

Footsteps rushed from the stairwell, a small storm tumbling down.

Winnie descended wreathed in anger, each step heavy as a drumbeat in thunder.

“Quiet. Selina’s about to drink,” Hedi pressed a finger to her lips, a white feather asking for hush. “You said it yourself—don’t wake her.”

“Drink it at home!”

“It’s seven hours. One night, like a long tide.”

“No! This couch collapses if you breathe on it!”

“Do you want your money? Is what’s in the wallet enough to cover it?”

“Impossible!”

“So I’ll test it here.”

Winnie leaned on the wall, shadow draped like a cloak, and watched Hedi twist the cork free with a soft sigh.

“Just one night,” Winnie said. “If the sofa caves, it’s on you.”

“I’m not heavy at all...” Selina mumbled, then glanced at Hedi, worry fluttering like a trapped moth. “If I wake halfway—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll cast a spell.”

“When I wake, the first person I see has to be you.”

“Alright.”

“Really?”

Hedi smiled, tender as a hand over a candle. “You really do love asking that.”

“Answer!”

“Really.”

Selina lifted the glass bottle and studied the gold-lit liquid, a captive sunrise in her palm. She breathed deep and drank, and a wordless shock bloomed, like countless fine threads drifting through her head, searching like roots in spring soil.

“What do you feel?” Hedi asked, concern pooling like rain in a cup.

“Sleepy... so sleepy...”

Selina swayed, a reed in wind, and Hedi caught her shoulders, guiding her down to the sofa slow as lowering a lantern.

“Professor...”

“Rest easy. I’ll stay with you.”

“When I open my eyes...”

“You’ll see me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Mm...”

Hedi stroked Selina’s heated cheek, then laid her coat over her like a warm dusk, and cast a soundproof veil that fell like snow.

“She’s in,” Winnie said. “I can see memories rushing through her brain like shoals of fish.”

“Seven hours.”

“Don’t cling to it; could be seven and a half, even eight,” Winnie said, palms up, like showing empty sky.

Hedi opened her pocket watch and kept still beside Selina, a candle that refused to gutter. “Anything under twelve hours is fine.”

“Can’t promise, and don’t give me that look. She’ll wake.”

“As long as she wakes.”

Winnie clicked off the lamps one by one, little suns going out, and the room slid into cold dark like a harbor under fog.

Hedi watched Selina, statue-still, then melted into the rising tide of shadow, a guardian folded into night.