Page 7

J uno's eyes burned from exhaustion as she peered into her bubbling cauldron. The green liquid inside swirled and shimmered, tiny sparks of magic dancing across its surface. She'd lost track of how many hours she'd been working, but she knew she was close. So close to the breakthrough she needed for Brewfest.

She carefully added another pinch of the moonlight orchid pollen to her mixture, watching as it dissolved into the swirling concoction. After three days of painstaking distillation, she'd managed to concentrate the scattered pollen into something approaching the potency of the original nectar. The resulting substance glittered with magical potential, its silvery-blue hue catching the candlelight as she stirred it into her base potion.

"The pollen's different than the nectar," she murmured to herself. "More diffuse, but also more adaptable. I need to work with its properties, not fight them."

She'd modified her original formula, shifting from a purely nurturing approach to one that incorporated elements of both nurturing and defensive herbology. The irony wasn't lost on her—she was using Thaddeus's methods even as she competed against him.

The competition was mere days away, and Juno was determined to prove that her nurturing approach to herbology was just as valid—no, more valid—than Thaddeus's defensive techniques. She added a pinch of red clover, holding her breath as the potion hissed and changed color.

"Come on," she muttered, stirring counterclockwise. "Just a little more..."

Suddenly, the potion glowed bright gold, emitting a burst of sweet-smelling steam. This was it. She'd done it.

"Yes!" she cried, pumping her fist in the air. "I've cracked the code. My potion's complete. Now Thaddeus will see he can't compete."

Juno blinked, surprised by her own words. Had she just... rhymed? She shook her head, attributing it to lack of sleep.

"Okay, time to test this out and see what it's all about. Wait, why am I still speaking like Dr. Seuss?"

She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening in realization. It was the potion. Somehow, as a side effect, it had made her speak in rhymes.

Juno took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "This shouldn't matter, as long as I can serve up the competition on a platter." Oh who was she kidding? This was a disaster. She paced her laboratory. How was she going to explain this to anyone without sounding like a children's book character? She needed to fix this.

Thaddeus would know what to do. He was brilliant at counteracting magical side effects. But would he help her? Help his competition?

"To Thaddeus I must head, though it fills me with dread. I only hope he won't laugh at what I've said."

As she made her way through the hallways, she passed a group of students huddled in conversation. They fell silent as she approached, but not before she caught snippets about Professor Shadowspire's "revolutionary breakthrough" and something about "combining dual approaches." Juno slowed her pace, straining to hear more.

"I heard he's using the moonlight orchid to create something never seen before," one student whispered, not quite quietly enough.

"Professor Everhart said his potion changes color with the drinker's emotional state," another added. "Defense that adapts to the specific threat!"

Juno's heart sank. So he was using the orchid nectar after all—and from the sound of it, he was doing something innovative with it. Had he also incorporated elements of her nurturing approach? The thought simultaneously flattered and infuriated her.

Gathering her courage and a vial of her potion for proof, Juno continued through the quiet halls of Grimm Mawr Academy. It was late, and most of the other professors and students had long since retired for the night. But she knew Thaddeus would still be up, probably working on his own Brewfest project.

As she approached his laboratory, Juno heard voices. She slowed her steps, not wanting to interrupt if he was with someone. But as she got closer, she realized it was just Thaddeus talking to... himself?

"I don't know, Leaf," Thaddeus was saying, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. "What if I've been going about this all wrong?"

Juno peered around the doorframe, curiosity overriding her manners. Thaddeus stood with his back to her, apparently addressing a potted plant on his workbench. As she watched, the plant's leaves drooped sympathetically.

"I mean, look at Juno," Thaddeus continued, running a hand through his hair. "Her methods may be different, but they're effective. What if I've been too rigid in my approach? Too defensive?"

Was Thaddeus Shadowspire, Mr. "Defensive Herbology is the Only Way," actually expressing doubts about his methods? And to a plant, no less?

As if in response to Thaddeus's words, the plants around his laboratory began to move. A vine curled itself into a question mark. A flower hung its head, petals drooping. A cactus somehow managed to look skeptical.

"And then there's Juno herself," Thaddeus said, his voice taking on a tone Juno had never heard before. "We used to work so well together. Before I left for my dream job in the rainforest, which turned out to be more of a nightmare. I should have never left here. Left her."

A tendril from a nearby plant reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

Juno felt her heart constrict. She'd never seen Thaddeus like this, so vulnerable and open. It made her want to rush in and... what? Comfort him? Argue with him? Kiss him senseless?

Before she could decide, her traitorous mouth opened of its own accord. "Oh Thaddeus, my rival so dear, your doubts and your fears I chance to overhear."

Thaddeus whirled around, eyes wide with shock. "Juno? What are you—why are you rhyming?"

Juno stepped into the lab, her face burning with embarrassment. "A potion gone wrong, a side effect strange, has caused all my speech to rearrange."

Thaddeus stared at her for a moment. "Only you could turn a magical mishap into poetry."

"It's not funny. This rhyming's a curse. I came here for help, but you're making it worse."

Thaddeus wiped the smirk off his face. "I'm sorry. You're right, of course. Let me take a look at that potion of yours. Maybe together we can figure out how to reverse the effects."

As Thaddeus examined the vial of potion, Juno watched him closely. The furrow of concentration between his brows, the way he bit his lower lip as he tested drop after drop of the potion against other herbs and plants—it all brought back memories of late nights studying together, of shared dreams and stolen kisses. They had been so much in love. Did love like that really go away after harsh words and long absences?

It hadn't for her.

Maybe it hadn't for him either.

"So," she said, breaking the silence, "do you often confide in your plants and share all your doubt? It looked rather thoughtful, I must point out."

Thaddeus set down the vial, meeting Juno's eyes. "Sometimes it's easier to talk to plants than people. They don't judge. They don't have expectations. They just listen."

"I could be a sympathetic ear." She held out a hand to him. "But you would have to keep me near." She wanted to turn back time. Maybe she could have gone with him. Maybe they could have had a long-distance relationship. But she couldn't affect time any more than she could stop rhyming.

He took her hand, kissed it. "I'd like that."

"Roses are red. Violets are blue. Sugar is sweet and..." I love you . But she didn't want to rhyme it. "So are you."

"That's the best you can do?" Thaddeus's eyes crinkled with amusement, but there was something else there too—a tenderness that made Juno's breath catch in her throat. He was still holding her hand, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin.

"You're not falling into rhyme too? I didn't think it was catching! Ah-choo."

"It's not," he said. "I almost have the antidote."

A deafening explosion shook the entire laboratory. Juno and Thaddeus stumbled, instinctively clutching at each other for balance.

"What was that?" Thaddeus exclaimed.

"The greenhouse, I fear, is the source of that sound," Juno said, already moving towards the door. "We must hurry there, before chaos abounds."

They raced through the corridors, the smell of smoke and magical discharge growing stronger as they approached the greenhouse. When they burst through the doors, they were met with a scene of utter chaos.

Plants of all sizes and varieties were running amok, freed from their pots by the force of the explosion. Vines whipped through the air, flowers spewed colorful pollen, and what looked like a very angry shrub was attempting to break down the far wall.

"Not again," Thaddeus muttered.

Juno nodded grimly. "The Brewfest is to blame. Everyone is careless and thinks all plants are the same. A mess indeed, but we've faced worse before. Together we'll set this greenhouse to rights once more."

They sprang into action, working in tandem as if no time had passed since their student days. Juno soothed the more aggressive plants with gentle words and waves of calming magic, while Thaddeus erected magical barriers to contain the chaos.

As they worked, Juno noticed that Thaddeus's strength balanced her nurturing touch perfectly. It was like a dance, each anticipating the other's moves, filling in the gaps.

By the time they had the greenhouse under control, the sky outside was beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn. Juno and Thaddeus stood in the center of the now-calm greenhouse, covered in dirt, sweat, and glittering pollen.

"Tomorrow's Brewfest," Thaddeus said. As if she needed the reminder. "I can bring you the antidote for the rhyming verse later."

She nodded, but before he turned to go, she laid a hand on his arm to stop him.

"About us, about what comes next," she began, struggling to shape her rhyming speech into something meaningful. "The position, the feelings, it's all so complex."

"What do you mean?" Thaddeus asked, his gaze intent on her face.

"Our work and our hearts, they're tangled together," she explained. "To separate one from the other? I'm not sure I've ever. We compete for the same job, yet we draw ever near. How can we make space for both careers and what we hold dear?"

Juno could see understanding dawn in his eyes. She'd always found it nearly impossible to separate her feelings for Thaddeus from their professional competition. It was why their breakup had been so devastating—it hadn't just been losing a lover, but losing her research partner, her academic equal, her challenger who pushed her to grow.

"If you don't win," she said, dropping the rhyme for a moment through sheer force of will, "are you leaving again?"

"You can't get rid of me that easily," he promised.

And then he kissed her again.

He left her with her eyes still closed and her body racing with the thrill of his touch.

Tomorrow.

Juno slowly made her way back to her quarters, the first rays of dawn painting the hallways with golden light. The rhyming side effect was beginning to subside—she could feel the magic loosening its grip on her speech. By evening, with Thaddeus's antidote, she should be back to normal in time for the competition.

She slumped into her chair, emotional and physical exhaustion washing over her. Tomorrow—no, today—was Brewfest. The culmination of months of work. The decision about the department head position.

As she stared at her completed potion, glowing softly in its vial, Juno found herself wondering if it was all worth it. The position would validate her approach, give her the authority to shape the curriculum, advance her career. All things she'd dreamed of for years.

But at what cost?

If she won, would Thaddeus resent her, despite his promise to stay? If he won, could she accept working under his authority without bitterness? And if their rekindled feelings couldn't survive the competition, would any victory feel hollow?

"Maybe," she whispered, relieved to hear normal speech again, "there's something more important than being department head."

She gazed at the moonlight orchid pollen she'd so carefully distilled. It sparkled with possibility—not just for her potion, but perhaps for a different kind of future than she'd imagined.

A future where professional rivalry didn't have to mean personal sacrifice. Where perhaps two different approaches could coexist and even strengthen each other.

With that thought tugging at the corners of her mind, Juno finally allowed herself to rest. Tomorrow would bring its own answers. And perhaps its own questions.