The dungeons were quiet at this hour.
Not emptyโnever emptyโbut quiet in the way old stone places became quiet when most students had finally surrendered to sleep. The distant hum of enchanted pipes echoed through the walls. Somewhere far down the corridor, a suit of armor shifted and settled.
Nyara Dragonspire barely noticed.
She had been in the Dragonspire Laboratory for nearly six hours.
The room belonged to her, officially and unofficially.
The laboratory looked exactly like what happened when an alchemical prodigy was left unsupervised.
Books covered every available surface.
Scrolls hung pinned to walls.
Half-finished notes littered the tables.
Several cauldrons simmered quietly in the corners.
Artemis was currently asleep inside a box labeled EXTREMELY VOLATILE.
Sylver had somehow climbed onto the highest shelf and was attempting to steal a quill.
Lux was curled up in an empty cauldron fast asleep.
None of the ferrets appeared concerned about safety regulations.
Nyara sighed.
"Sylver."
The ferret froze.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He shoved the quill behind his back.
The little criminal.
"I can see it."
Sylver blinked innocently.
Nyara pointed.
The ferret dropped the quill and scampered away.
"Thank you."
Satisfied, she turned back to her work.
The potion occupying her attention was unlike anything she'd attempted before.
Most healing brews repaired damage.
This one aimed to prevent it.
Specifically magical exhaustion.
Aurors suffered from it.
Curse-breakers suffered from it.
Healers suffered from it.
The slow degradation of magical pathways caused by overuse.
The problem wasn't healing.
The problem was recovery.
And Nyara hated problems she couldn't solve.
The cauldron before her shimmered with liquid silver shot through with faint ribbons of lavender light.
Beautiful.
Unstable.
Potentially explosive.
The best kind.
Her lavender eyes narrowed.
She carefully added a single drop of moondew extract.
The potion immediately changed color.
Silver became pale gold.
Gold became iridescent.
For one breathtaking moment the entire surface looked like liquid starlight.
Nyara's breath caught.
"No..."
The mixture swirled.
Shifted.
Thenโ
BOOM.
Purple smoke exploded across the laboratory.
Books flew off shelves.
Artemis launched from his box.
Sylver fell from the ceiling.
Lux squeaked and crouched down in the cauldron.
Every candle extinguished simultaneously.
Silence.
Then a cough.
Nyara emerged from the cloud looking thoroughly unimpressed.
Her face was covered in soot.
The potion had somehow dyed the ends of her hair bright violet.
Lux stared.
Sylver stared.
Artemis stared.
Nyara stared back.
Then she sighed.
"...Progress."
A knock sounded at the laboratory door.
She froze.
Nobody visited this late.
Another knock.
Slow.
Curious.
Almost hesitant.
Through the lingering purple haze, Nyara glanced toward the entrance, one hand reaching automatically for her wand.
"Come in,"
she called.
The door creaked open.
And for the first time all evening, something more interesting than her potion entered the room.
