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SYLVIE

S ylvie Sage inhaled the comforting blend of clove and cedar that always hung in the air at Moonshadow Apothecary.

The morning sun filtered through the shop’s tall, narrow windows, warming the wooden floors and catching on dust motes dancing lazily overhead.

The space looked deceptively calm—rows of neat shelves lined with glass jars, little vials of powdered ingredients, and an entire wall devoted to stacks of handcrafted candles. Sylvie had made every single one.

Outside, Celestial Pines was just waking up.

She heard a bicycle bell ring, followed by the soft chatter of neighbors exchanging greetings on the sidewalk.

Each morning, the town came alive with subtle magic: birds sometimes sang in harmonized chords, and breezes carried faint glimmers of enchantment.

Sylvie loved Celestial Pines for that intangible sense of wonder, tucked away from ordinary eyes.

Unfortunately, the day’s responsibilities left her no time for starry-eyed appreciation. She had a special order to finish.

In the center of the shop, an antique wooden table was covered in her newest project: a single candle, half-poured in a metal mold, the wax swirling with flecks of purple.

The candle was supposed to repel love, some heartbreak remedy for a customer who insisted she was done with romance after a nasty breakup.

Sylvie didn't love the idea of anti-love spells, but who was she to judge? The request had come with a hefty tip, and her store’s bills wouldn’t pay themselves.

She carefully measured dried yarrow and heart’s ease petals, sprinkling them into the still-warm wax.

“Reduce unwanted attachments,” she murmured, reciting the incantation she’d prepared.

She pressed her palm on the table and closed her eyes to concentrate.

Being a witch meant harnessing emotion, but she knew her own feelings could tamper with the final product.

She needed this candle to be neat, tidy, and ironically, devoid of sentiment.

Nothing fancy—just a straightforward ward against longing.

Yet her thoughts strayed to Missy Sage, her wild-haired aunt, who had teased Sylvie for even attempting such a thing. “Suppressing love is risky business,” Aunt Missy had warned last night. “It’ll backfire if you’re not careful.”

Sylvie exhaled, trying to ignore the memory.

She’d done plenty of spells before, and everything usually turned out fine.

She was confident in her craft—mostly. But a small part of her wondered if Aunt Missy might be onto something.

Love magic had a will of its own. That was what every Sage witch learned sooner or later.

Biting back her doubts, she carefully tapped a pinch of ground quartz into the wax.

A faint lavender glow pulsed in response.

Normally, a delicate shimmer meant the candle was on the right track.

Still, Sylvie felt a disquieting buzz in the pit of her stomach.

The magic vibrated strangely between her fingertips, and she had the odd sensation that it recognized something in her… or maybe it was the other way around.

She shook her head and continued working. “Focus, Sylvie,” she reminded herself. One final ingredient remained: black salt to seal the spell. She reached for the little porcelain jar when the door to the apothecary jingled.

“Morning, ma’am!” The bright greeting belonged to Junie Bell, the chipper barista-in-training from The Spellbound Sip.

She only got Sundays off, so it was unusual to see her midweek.

With wide eyes and an even wider grin, Junie lifted a small box of pastries in both hands like a peace offering.

“Brought you some muffins! Was hoping you might trade them for one of your insomnia teas?”

Sylvie paused mid-incantation, giving Junie a polite smile.

“Uh, sure. You can set them on the counter.” She didn’t mind a visitor but was acutely aware that she was in the middle of an active enchantment.

If she left the wax cooling too long, the ingredients might set incorrectly.

“I’ve got a fresh blend that should help you catch some sleep. Gimme just a minute.”

“Take your time!” Junie chirped. She ambled around the shop, admiring the newly stocked shelves. “Gosh, it smells amazing in here today. Is that a new candle?”

Sylvie forced a laugh. “Yes, but it’s not for general sale.

” She saw Junie’s expectant eyes and decided not to elaborate on the purpose.

The last thing she needed was to explain she was brewing a candle specifically to ward off love.

Or mention that she had a creeping feeling it wasn’t cooperating with her plan.

“Why don’t you check out the skincare shelf while I finish up? ”

Junie wandered off, leaving Sylvie to deal with the magic swirling in front of her.

She touched the edge of the metal mold again.

“Alright, you stubborn thing, let’s try this.

” She raised her palm, letting her innate witchcraft flow through her hand.

The candle’s surface rippled like a pond, and the subtle lavender shimmer grew brighter.

She could sense something was… off. The subtle hum had turned into a faint buzz in her ears, and an undercurrent of warmth crawled up her arm.

Her brow knitted. “No, no, no. Don’t start that,” she muttered. She placed a second hand over the mold and breathed deeply, forcing her will into the wax. “We’re preventing romance, not?—”

At that moment, the bell above her door chimed again. She didn’t have to look up to know who had entered; the air crackled with a different energy, one that set her heart pounding before she even got a glimpse of him.

Nicholas Whitmore strolled in, all sunshine grin and easy swagger. “Hey there, Sylvie.” His voice brushed over her like a warm breeze. He smelled faintly of pine and something else—like a hint of musky spice. She hated that she noticed.

She clenched her jaw. Nicholas had a reputation around town for being a flirt, and he’d lived up to it every time he set foot in her shop. “Nicholas,” she replied curtly, not bothering to hide her annoyance. “What are you doing here so early?”

He tilted his head, those amber eyes lingering too long on the half-finished candle.

“I’m picking up supplies for the sanctuary.

We need some of your insect-repelling sachets.

And maybe something for stress relief.” He chuckled low.

“Got a cranky puma shifter from out of state who can’t settle in.

Thought some of your herbal blends might help. ”

It was a reasonable request, but Sylvie’s shoulders went tense. “Fine. They’re over on the far right shelf with the rest of my specialty pouches. Pick the ones labeled with the purple thread.”

He nodded but didn’t move. Instead, he leaned forward, crossing his arms on the wooden table where her candle was cooling. “And what’s this little project?” His gaze flicked from the swirling wax to her face, an impish curiosity lighting his expression.

She swallowed. “None of your business, Whitmore.” The last thing she needed was his chaos messing with her precarious spell. She tried to shoo him away with a wave of her hand. “Let me finish this, and I’ll get to your order.”

An ironic glint sparked in his eyes. “Relax, I’m not planning on sabotaging your potions. I’m just… interested.” His voice dipped quieter. “You’ve got magic in the air, and it’s pulsing strong.”

“Like I said: none of your business,” Sylvie repeated, turning back to her work.

She refused to let him distract her. With a slow exhale, she resumed the incantation under her breath, hoping to wrap up the enchantment before any slip-ups happened.

The presence of a distractingly handsome tiger shifter was the last thing a highly-charged love-banishing candle needed.

But fate—or perhaps the candle itself—had other ideas.

Nicholas reached to brush a stray sprig of rosemary off the table.

The moment his fingers touched the herb, a surge of lavender light flared out of the mold, arcing like lightning between Sylvie’s hand and his.

It crackled in the air, hot and sudden. Junie let out a startled squeak from across the shop.

“What the—” Nicholas started, but his words died in a flash of bright purple radiance that momentarily blinded them all.

Time slowed. Sylvie felt her heart hammer in her chest, a fierce thrumming that echoed in her ears.

Magic coiled around her wrist like a serpent, winding outward.

She saw Nicholas’s stunned face across from her, eyes wide, mouth parted in surprise.

The candle, or what was left of it, glowed fiercely, as if it had discovered a secret well of power.

Her vision blurred, and she felt an odd, burning tug deep in her core. She heard the sound of wind chimes, even though there were none in the shop. A rush of heat, both exhilarating and terrifying, poured through her veins, leaving her dizzy.

As suddenly as it began, the glow retreated back into the wax, leaving the shop in heavy silence.

Sylvie’s hand trembled. She looked at Nicholas.

An identical band of violet light shimmered faintly around his left wrist, then faded to an almost invisible trace.

Her pulse fluttered at the realization that an identical ring now adorned her own wrist. She tried to will it away, but a searing jolt shot up her arm instead. The enchantment was stubbornly settled.

Junie took a hesitant step forward. “Sylvie? Is everything okay?” She sounded equal parts fascinated and frightened.