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D iana stood in her infirmary—her properly renovated, professionally completed infirmary—and felt nothing. Which was, perhaps, the problem. After weeks of feeling everything so intensely through her magical fusion with Alarick, ordinary existence seemed muted, like a painting where all colors had faded.

Six weeks had passed since Alarick's departure. Six weeks of throwing herself into work while steadfastly ignoring the Alarick-shaped hole in both her professional and personal life.

"It looks magnificent," Malachai said. He and Ceries strolled in to survey the completed renovation. "Warding Specialist Okafor did an excellent job finishing the project."

"She did," Diana agreed, trying to sound appreciative. Specialist Okafor was undeniably talented, but her work lacked the intuitive harmony that had characterized Alarick's designs—the subtle ways his magic had anticipated how Diana's healing spells would interact with protective elements.

"Have you heard from Alarick?" Ceries asked.

Diana busied herself reorganizing a tray of healing potions. "Nothing since he left. Not a letter, not a message, nothing."

"Well, I have," Malachai said, perching on the edge of the examination table. "Apparently his treatment at St. Candlebrook's has shown promising results. The specialists developed a stabilization protocol that's restored significant functionality to his magical core."

Despite her best efforts at professional detachment, Diana felt a surge of relief. "That's... good news."

"Professionally speaking," Ceries mimicked, then softened. "Diana, it's been six weeks. You're miserable. He's probably miserable too."

"I need to focus on adapting to my new magical baseline," Diana said, avoiding the emotional question. "Professor Everflame says the changes to my healing capabilities might actually offer new approaches, if I can adjust my techniques properly."

"Avoid all you want, but you should know that Alarick will be returning to Grimm Mawr next week."

Diana nearly dropped the potion she was holding. "What? Why wasn't I informed?"

"I'm informing you now," Malachai pointed out. "He's coming to provide specialized warding consultation for the Forbidden Archives. Apparently, the disruption of Adelweiss's energy siphoning revealed some vulnerabilities in our oldest protective systems."

"I see." Diana set the potion down carefully. "Well, I'm sure our paths won't cross much."

Ceries just looked at her. "For a brilliant healer, you can be remarkably dense sometimes."

Before Diana could respond, the infirmary door burst open and three familiar faces tumbled in—Malta, Irideane, and Polly, the trio who had spent half the summer inventing injuries for Alarick's benefit.

"Nurse Maelstrom," Malta exclaimed, clutching her wrist dramatically. "I think I sprained my wrist during practice."

"Again? That must be the sixth sprain this summer."

"It's very delicate," Malta insisted, her attention clearly focused on scanning the infirmary. Her disappointment upon not finding Alarick was almost comical.

"Mr. Blackthorn isn't here," Diana said dryly.

The girls exchanged glances before Irideane said, "We thought he’d be here by now.”

"News travels fast," Diana muttered, shooting Ceries an accusatory look.

"Don't blame me," Ceries protested. "The garden gnomes have been celebrating since dawn. They've constructed some kind of welcome arch out of pebbles and stolen hair ribbons."

Despite everything, Diana felt her lips twitch. Those ridiculous gnomes and their inexplicable attachment to Alarick.

After examining Malta's perfectly healthy wrist and sending the disappointed trio on their way, Diana turned back to Ceries.

"The garden gnomes built him a welcome arch?"

"With a banner," Ceries confirmed, grinning. "Though since gnomes can't actually write, it's just a series of enthusiastic symbols that I think are supposed to represent warding patterns."

"He always did have an unusual rapport with them."

"If what you had with Alarick was just magical influence, would you still be thinking about him every day six weeks later?"

Ceries had a point. The question lingered long after Ceries and Malachai had left. It followed Diana through her evening routine and into her quarters, which still felt too empty despite the time that had passed.

Was that her answer?

***

T HE DAY OF ALARICK'S scheduled return, Diana deliberately arrived at breakfast early, hoping to avoid an awkward public reunion. She was halfway through her meal when Headmistress Raven appeared beside her table, Edgar perched on her shoulder with his usual inscrutable stare.

"Nurse Maelstrom," Raven said without preamble. "I require your assistance with a matter in the archives this morning."

Diana nearly choked on her tea. "The archives? Surely Madam Astrablaze—"

"Is currently occupied with other matters," Raven finished. "The issue involves potential magical contamination affecting some of our older healing texts. Your expertise is needed."

It was a transparent pretext, but refusing a direct request from the Headmistress wasn't an option.

"Of course," Diana said, resigned to the inevitable. "When would you like me to examine these texts?"

"Immediately," Raven replied, already turning toward the door. "Mr. Blackthorn is already there waiting."

Mr. Blackthorn. So formal, as if Alarick were just another colleague, not someone who had shared her bed, her magic, her heart.

Diana followed Raven through the castle corridors, her anxiety mounting with each step. She had imagined their eventual reunion countless times, but now that the moment was imminent, all her careful preparation evaporated.

The Forbidden Archives occupied the oldest part of Grimm Mawr, its entrance guarded by intimidating gargoyles. Inside, towering shelves held some of the most dangerous magical knowledge in existence.

Raven led her to a secluded alcove deep within the archives. And there, examining an ancient ward configuration with intense concentration, was Alarick.

Diana's breath caught. He looked both familiar and different—the same broad shoulders and strong hands that she remembered so vividly, but a new seriousness in his expression. His sleeves were rolled up as always, revealing forearms that she had once traced with reverent fingers.

He looked up, his expression shifting through several emotions before settling into careful professionalism.

"Headmistress. Diana." His voice was steady, betraying nothing. "Thank you for coming."

"I'll leave you to your examination," Raven said, with a pointed look between them that made her matchmaking intentions painfully obvious. "Edgar and I have other matters to attend to."

After she departed, an awkward silence descended, both of them clearly uncertain how to navigate this reunion.

"You look well," Alarick said finally.

"As do you," she replied, defaulting to professional courtesy. "I understand the treatments at St. Candlebrook's were successful."

He nodded, a shadow crossing his expression. "Partially. My magic is stable now, though some of the changes are permanent. I've had to adapt my warding approach."

"I've experienced something similar," Diana admitted. "My healing magic works differently now. Not necessarily worse, just different."

Another silence fell, heavy with unasked questions. Diana focused on the ancient texts, desperate for some professional task to ground her.

"You said there was potential contamination?"

"Yes." Alarick seemed equally relieved to focus on work. "These texts contain some of the oldest healing magic records. When Adelweiss's energy siphoning was disrupted, it affected them too."

He gestured to a page where magical diagrams shifted subtly. "The illustrations are destabilizing, which might compromise both the knowledge they contain and the archive's defensive systems."

Diana examined the text, her diagnostic magic revealing complex patterns of deterioration. "You're right. The magical matrix is unwinding. I've seen similar degradation in very old healing artifacts."

"Can it be stabilized?"

"Yes, but it will require specialized restoration magic." Diana traced the pattern carefully. "The difficulty is maintaining the original magical signature while reinforcing the deteriorating elements."

"Like my ward work on the infirmary renovation," Alarick observed. "Integrating new protective elements without disrupting the existing magical framework."

"Exactly." Their eyes met briefly in shared professional understanding before both looked away, the parallel to their personal situation too pointed to ignore.

They worked together for the next hour, maintaining careful professional distance while developing a restoration approach. Without their magical fusion, the process required explicit communication rather than intuitive understanding. Yet Diana found they still collaborated effectively, their professional expertise complementing each other even without magical enhancement.

"I think this approach should work," Diana said finally, outlining a specialized healing sequence. "Though it will need to be synchronized with your warding adjustments."

"Agreed." Alarick reviewed her notes. "We should test it on a small section first."

They selected a corner of one illustration and began the delicate restoration process. Diana applied the specialized healing magic while Alarick maintained a protective field, their magic interacting but separate, like dancers performing complementary but independent routines.

"It's working," Diana observed as the illustration stabilized. "The pattern is holding."

"Yes," Alarick agreed, his concentration fixed on maintaining perfect balance. "Though it requires much more conscious control than before."

The unspoken comparison hung between them—before, when their magic had flowed together effortlessly through their fusion.

When they had successfully stabilized the test section, they stepped back to assess the results. The restored illustration glowed with renewed magical vitality, its energy contained and protected by the adjusted warding.

"Good work," Alarick said, genuine approval in his tone. "Your adaptation to the changes in your magic is impressive."

"As is yours," Diana replied, noticing the subtle differences in his warding approach.

He smiled slightly, the first real smile she'd seen from him since his return. "Necessity is a powerful motivator. The specialists at St. Candlebrook's were fascinated by my case—apparently magical fusion disruption is extremely rare."

"I'm glad they could help," Diana said sincerely.

Another silence fell, but less strained than before. They had established a professional rapport again, found a way to work together effectively despite the profound changes in their magic.

"Diana," Alarick began, then hesitated. "I—"

Whatever he intended was interrupted by a commotion from the main archive room—raised voices and the distinct sound of something heavy toppling over.

They hurried toward the disturbance. In the central reading area, they found Malta, Irideane, and Polly standing amid a pile of fallen books, looking simultaneously guilty and terrified.

"It wasn't our fault," Malta said. "The bookshelf just moved."

"After you tried to climb it," Diana observed dryly. "Seeking a better view, I presume?"

The girls' expressions confirmed the accusation. They had clearly been attempting to spy on them.

"We just wanted to see Mr. Blackthorn's ward work," Irideane insisted unconvincingly. "For our independent study project."

"Your independent study project," Alarick repeated, amusement flickering in his eyes. "On advanced warding techniques that happen to be conducted in the most restricted section of the archives?"

"Well, your 'independent study' has disturbed some very old and potentially dangerous texts," Diana said with concern. She broke off as one of the books began to glow with an ominous purple light, its pages fluttering open seemingly of their own accord.

"Everyone back," Alarick ordered, already casting a containment ward around the activated book. "Now."

The girls stumbled backward as Diana joined Alarick.

"Sympathetic resonance with the restoration magic we were just using," she reported quickly. "The book contains similar healing diagrams, but with much more volatile properties."

Alarick nodded, adjusting his containment field as the book rose into the air, purple light pulsing intensely. "The magical signature is degrading rapidly. If it destabilizes completely—"

"It could trigger a cascade effect through other sensitive texts," Diana finished. "We need to neutralize it before that happens."

Without discussing it, they fell into a coordinated response pattern, Alarick maintaining the containment field while Diana worked to stabilize the volatile magical content. It wasn't their former seamless synchronization, but years of professional training allowed them to work effectively together nonetheless.

The book pulsed again, more violently, and Diana felt the strain of trying to stabilize such volatile magic without their fusion's support.

"It's fighting the stabilization," she reported, sweat beading on her forehead. "The degradation is accelerating faster than I can counteract it."

Alarick's expression was grim as he reinforced the containment field. "We need a different approach. Standard stabilization isn't working."

Diana stared at the levitating book, then an idea struck her—drawing on what they had just discovered in their restoration work.

"What if we don't try to stabilize it?" she suggested. "What if we guide the degradation instead? Create a controlled unwinding rather than fighting against it?"

Alarick caught on immediately. "Like our fusion dissolution. Controlled separation rather than chaotic fracturing."

"Exactly." Their eyes met in perfect understanding, professional minds aligned even without magical enhancement.

Together, they shifted their approach, Diana using her healing magic to guide the degradation along specific pathways while Alarick modified his containment field to allow for controlled energy dissipation.

Gradually, the violent pulsing subsided, the purple glow fading as the wild magic dissipated safely. When the last of the erratic energy had discharged, the book settled gently back to the table, its pages now inert but undamaged.

"That was brilliant," Alarick said with genuine admiration. "Using the degradation pattern itself as the solution rather than fighting against it."

"It was your containment field that made it possible," Diana replied. "The precision of your control, even with your altered magic—it's remarkable."

They stood there, gazing at each other with professional respect and something deeper. In that moment of shared success, Diana recognized a truth she had been avoiding: their connection hadn't been merely magical resonance. It had been built on mutual respect, shared values, complementary approaches—things that existed independent of their fusion.

The spell was broken by Malta's breathless voice: "That was amazing. Are you two getting back together now?"

Diana turned to find all three girls watching them with rapt attention, completely oblivious to the seriousness of the magical incident they had just caused.

"That," Diana said firmly, "is none of your business, Miss Kenobrie. And you three are in serious trouble for disturbing restricted texts without permission."

***

L ATER THAT EVENING , Diana raised her hand to knock at Alarick’s door. Their success in the archives had sparked something she couldn't ignore—hope that maybe, just maybe, what they had shared hadn't been solely dependent on their magical fusion.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she knocked.

Alarick opened the door, surprise evident on his face. "Diana. I wasn't expecting you."

"May I come in?" she asked, noting his casual attire—a simple shirt with, yes, the sleeves rolled up.

He stepped aside, gesturing her in. "Of course."

His quarters were much as she remembered—books and magical instruments arranged with the same organized chaos that characterized his approach to warding. A half-eaten dinner sat on his desk, surrounded by notes.

"I'm interrupting your work," she observed.

"Nothing that can't wait," he assured her. "Is this about the archive incident?"

"No. Yes. Sort of." Diana took a deep breath. "It's about what happened today. How we worked together."

"Effectively," Alarick nodded, a cautious light in his eyes. "Despite the changes to our magic."

"More than effectively," Diana corrected. "We solved a problem that neither of us could have handled alone, even before our fusion was damaged."

He studied her face. "What are you saying, Diana?"

"I'm saying that today made me realize something." She met his gaze directly. "What we had—what we shared—it wasn't just magical compatibility. It was something more fundamental."

Alarick took a step toward her, hope and wariness warring in his expression. "I've been thinking the same thing. Every day at St. Candlebrook's, actually."

"You have?"

"Why do you think I came back?" he asked softly. "The archives project is important, but I could have sent recommendations. I came back because I needed to know if what I still feel for you is real or just echoes of a magical connection."

Diana's heart pounded in her chest. "And? What's your conclusion?"

"That I'm still in love with you," Alarick said simply. "Without magical fusion, without extraordinary resonance. Just me, loving you for who you are—brilliant, dedicated, occasionally infuriating."

A laugh escaped her, half joy and half disbelief. "Infuriating?"

"Completely," he confirmed with a smile that made her heart race. "Especially when you take six weeks to figure out what I realized after three."

"Which is?"

"That magic may have brought us together, but it isn't what kept us together." His voice dropped lower. "The fusion enhanced what was already there, Diana. It didn't create it."

"The garden gnomes told me you'd say that," she said, a smile breaking through despite her attempt at seriousness.

"Garden gnomes," Alarick laughed, "are surprisingly insightful for creatures that collect shiny buttons."

"More insightful than me, apparently," Diana admitted. "It took seeing you again, working with you again, to understand what I've been missing wasn't the fusion—it was you."

Alarick closed the distance between them, his hands coming up to frame her face. "I've missed you too. Every day."

"Even though I'm stubborn and ten years older and occasionally berate you for rearranging my healing supplies?" she asked, only half joking.

"Especially because of those things," he assured her. "They're part of who you are. The person I love."

When he kissed her, there was no magical glow, no extraordinary resonance between their cores—just the very human connection of two people who had found their way back to each other through loss and adaptation, through professional respect and personal longing.

It was different from before, yes, but no less powerful for being purely human rather than magically amplified.

"I've been offered a permanent position at Grimm Mawr," Alarick said softly when they finally parted. "Heading a new department focusing on integrated magical security."

"You have?" Diana pulled back slightly to study his face.

"Headmistress Raven seems to think my adapted warding approach has significant educational value. Especially after today's incident." He smiled. "The fact that it keeps me near you is just a very fortunate coincidence, I'm sure."

"Raven does love her matchmaking," Diana laughed. "Almost as much as the garden gnomes."

"So," Alarick said, his thumbs tracing gentle patterns on her cheeks, "what do you think? About me staying?"

"I think," Diana said deliberately, "that I've spent six weeks trying to convince myself that what we had was just magical compatibility. And I've failed spectacularly."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's an 'I love you,'" she corrected. "Even without the fusion. Even with your constant sleeve-rolling and your garden gnome fan club. I love you, Alarick Blackthorn."

His smile was radiant. "Even with my tendency to reorganize your perfectly arranged supplies?"

"Let's not push it," she warned, though she was smiling too. "I reserve the right to be occasionally irritated by your organizational improvements."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Alarick assured her, pulling her close again. "After all, we established long ago that you're magnificent when flustered."

As his lips met hers again, Diana reflected that some things hadn't changed, fusion or no fusion. Alarick still had an uncanny ability to see through her professional facade, to challenge her precisely where she needed challenging, to support her in ways that made her stronger rather than dependent.

Their magic might have changed, their professional approaches adapted, but the fundamental connection between them remained—stronger, perhaps, for having been tested and consciously reclaimed rather than facilitated by extraordinary magical compatibility.

And that, Diana decided as she wrapped her arms around Alarick's neck, was a different kind of magic altogether—one that no broken fusion could ever take away.