Entangled Connections
Vi was bored. Unbearably bored. The kind of bored that had her staring at the whitewashed walls of the hospital wing like they were going to tell her all the answers to the universe. The throbbing ache in her shoulder had dulled to a dull pulse after Mister Tobias had fixed it, but the concussion still made her head feel heavy, like her skull was too large for her brain. She tried to sleep, but every time she closed them, memories flashed behind her eyes forcing them open.
The quiet hum of the hospital wing only made the silence worse.
“Knock, knock,” came the unmistakable voice of Mylo, followed by the familiar creak of the door swinging open.
Vi half-rolled her eyes, but the slightest curve of a smile tugged at her lips. “If you're going to bring me some ridiculously over-sweet snack, just leave it at the door.”
“I’m here for your company, not food,” Mylo retorted, stepping inside, followed by Claggor, Powder, and Ekko. The four of them entered, forming a small huddle around her bed, making the hospital wing feel less lonely.
Vi couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of Ekko trying not to bump into anything with his usual awkwardness. Powder stuck to him like glue, her eyes scanning the room for anything out of place, her usual nervous energy palpable. Claggor, on the other hand, stood firm, his gaze fixed entirely on Vi as if to make sure she was okay.
“Does the headache at least give you a break when you sleep, or is it constant?” Claggor asked, his voice steady and quiet, as if he could feel the weight of the situation.
“Constant,” Vi groaned. She propped herself up with one arm, wincing slightly from her shoulder, then let herself fall back into the pillow with a frustrated sigh. “I’m so sick of lying here.”
Powder leaned forward, her eyes wide with concern. “It’s only for a couple of days, right? Mister Tobias said you’d be okay?”
Vi shrugged her good arm, grimacing. “I’ll survive. Just a lot of down time.”
Mylo folded his arms, leaning against the foot of her bed with a smirk. “So, no wild adventures for a few days? What a tragedy.”
“You’re hilarious,” Vi deadpanned, rolling her eyes at Mylo’s usual sarcasm. “Anyways, catch me up, what have you guys been up to?”
Mylo leaned forward in his seat, grinning like he was about to share a big secret. “You wouldn’t believe what happened in Potions today. I actually did everything by the book— everything ,” he said, with an exaggerated air of innocence.
Claggor rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. If ‘by the book’ means ‘set the cauldron on fire,’ then sure, Mylo, you nailed it.”
Vi’s lips twitched as she glanced between the two of them. She was starting to feel a bit more awake, her headache still throbbing but the distraction was a welcome relief. “How’d you set a cauldron on fire in Potions?”
Mylo huffed, ignoring Claggor’s teasing. “I did everything the way Professor Silco said. I was even following his instructions to a T. But then Claggor—” He glanced at his brother, pointedly, “—knocked over the wrong herb into my cauldron, and suddenly we were all coughing like we’d inhaled a whole forest of smoke.”
“Hey! You can’t blame me for your lack of attention!” Claggor shot back, throwing his hands up. “I’m not the one who added dragon’s blood and fire salts without checking!”
Mylo’s eyes widened. “That was a small mistake ! It wasn’t supposed to explode like that. I was just—”
“About to turn the whole classroom into a barbecue,” Claggor interrupted, grinning as he enjoyed the back-and-forth.
Vi snorted, despite her sore ribs. “Sounds like you two need to be banned from Potions. I’m starting to think you might burn the castle down one of these days.”
“Only the Potions classroom,” Claggor quipped, leaning back in his chair. “Though I did save Mylo from certain disaster. You should’ve seen him scrambling when the smoke started. Classic panic mode.”
Mylo crossed his arms, unamused. “You didn’t exactly handle it well either, with your dramatic flailing. You were knocking things off shelves!”
“I was saving the class , Mylo!” Claggor laughed. “Not my fault you didn’t know how to handle the fumes.”
Before Mylo could argue back, the doors creaked open again. Viktor, Mel, and Jayce stepped inside, their arrival immediately shifting the energy in the room.
“You’re still here?” Viktor asked, raising an eyebrow at Vi. “I half expected you to break out by now.”
Vi huffed, giving a weak wave of her good hand. “Trust me, I tried. They’ve got me locked down. Real shame, too—I had big plans to invent a new type of potion, one that turns Silco’s hair green or makes him speak only in riddles.”
Jayce snorted. “If you pull that off, I’ll personally fund your potion-making career.”
The conversation carried on, laughter and teasing filling the quiet corners of the hospital wing. For a while, Vi almost forgot about the dull ache in her head, the throbbing in her shoulder. They talked about everything and nothing—Mel rolling her eyes at Jayce’s latest grand invention, Powder animatedly recounting a prank she was planning, Viktor making dry remarks that had them all chuckling. The energy eventually settled into something quieter, more comfortable. One by one, they started trickling out—Jayce and Mel leaving for their date, then Viktor, who muttered something about unfinished work. Claggor dragged Mylo away before he could start another debate, and Ekko gave Vi a small nod before heading out, insisting he’d “check in later”.
That left just Powder.
Vi shifted slightly, careful not to jostle her sore shoulder, and watched as Powder tucked her legs up onto the chair, making herself impossibly small. The easy banter from before had settled into something softer, quieter.
“You know, that chair’s gonna kill your back,” Vi muttered, her voice low and fond.
Powder scrunched up her nose. “It’s fine.”
Vi huffed, rolling her eyes. “Pow, just get up here. The bed’s big enough.”
For a second, Powder hesitated—like she was debating whether or not she wanted to accept the offer. Then, without another word, she clambered up onto the bed, lying on her side with her arms folded beneath her head. Vi adjusted slightly to make room, though Powder was careful not to bump her injured shoulder. It reminded Vi of when they were little, curled up in their tiny room, whispering until one of them passed out mid-sentence.
After a moment, Powder shifted closer, hesitantly at first, before tucking herself against Vi’s side like she used to when she was scared of thunderstorms. Vi felt the slight tremor in Powder’s breath as she curled into her, pressing her face into Vi’s sleeve. Without thinking, Vi moved her good arm, wrapping it around Powder’s back, holding her there. Powder sighed, her body relaxing at the familiar comfort.
They lay in silence for a while, the room quiet except for the occasional muffled sound of footsteps down the hall.
Then Powder spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I hate seeing you hurt.”
“Not exactly my favorite thing either,” Vi admitted.
Powder swallowed. “You’re always throwing yourself into danger. Even when we were kids. I just… I don’t want you to—” She stopped, biting her lip.
Vi exhaled through her nose, staring up at the ceiling as well. “I know.”
Powder looked up at Vi, her blue eyes sharp in the dim light. “Then why do you keep doing it?”
Vi let out a slow breath. “Because someone has to.”
Powder frowned. “That’s not fair.”
Vi turned her head, meeting her sister’s gaze. “I know,” she said again.
Powder held her stare for a moment before sighing and shifting closer still, resting her head buried in Vi’s side.
“I wish things were easier,” Powder mumbled, her voice muffled.
“Me too, Pow,” Vi said softly. “Me too.”
Eventually, Powder’s eyelids drooped, and her breathing evened out. Vi chuckled softly.
“Guess you’re staying the night, huh?” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
The blue-haired girl didn’t respond, already half-asleep. Vi let her eyes close, too. At least this time, when the silence settled in, she wasn’t alone.
The library was quiet, save for the soft rustle of parchment and the distant scratch of quills. A candle flickered beside Caitlyn, casting a warm glow over her open textbook. She wasn’t reading.
Her eyes traced the words absently, her mind elsewhere. Vi. The way she had thrown herself in front of that damn Graphorn—like Caitlyn was some helpless idiot. As if they hadn’t been in the same bloody classes for years , learning the exact same techniques, refining the exact same skills.
What, did Vi think she was better? Stronger? That Caitlyn needed her to step in, fix things, micromanage —
Caitlyn clenched her jaw. She had snapped at Vi, sharp and frustrated. And maybe if she hadn’t, the Graphorn wouldn’t have turned on them. Maybe if she had just let Vi do what she always did—take control, act without thinking—then none of it would have happened at all.
But that wasn’t even the most infuriating part. Vi. The same Vi who flirted like it was breathing, who made Caitlyn feel like she was the only person in the room—only to push her away the second things got too real. And now? Now she was snogging other people, like none of it had ever mattered.
The quill in her grip nearly snapped.
Across the table, Maddie was talking. She had been for a while now, something about spell modifications maybe, or an assignment—Caitlyn hadn’t caught a single word.
“Caitlyn?” Maddie’s voice cut through, sharp enough to break through the fog in her head.
Caitlyn blinked, glancing up. The ginger girl was watching her, expectant, brows slightly furrowed.
“What?”
Maddie hesitated, then gave a small, lopsided smile. “You weren’t listening.”
Caitlyn exhaled, dragging a hand down her face. "Sorry. I zoned out."
Maddie tilted her head slightly, studying her. "Wanna talk about it?"
Caitlyn let out a short, humorless huff. "Its nothing, really." She flipped her quill between her fingers, gaze dropping back to her notes, though she still wasn’t actually reading them.
Maddie hesitated, then leaned in slightly, dropping her voice. "It’s Vi, isn’t it?"
Caitlyn’s jaw tensed, but she didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it. Maddie took Caitlyn’s silence as confirmation and pressed on, her voice dipping into something more conspiratorial.
“I mean, I get it,” she sighed, tilting her head. “She’s talented, she’s got that whole… larger-than-life thing going for her.” A pause, like she was carefully choosing her words. “And I know she means well. She’s protective—it’s just who she is.”
Caitlyn’s fingers curled against the edge of her textbook.
“But sometimes,” Maddie continued, voice soft, almost sympathetic, “that kind of thing stops being protective and starts being… overbearing.” She shook her head slightly. “Like, she doesn’t get to decide what’s best for you. She doesn’t get to step in and act like you can’t handle yourself.”
Caitlyn inhaled sharply through her nose.
Maddie watched her closely, then leaned in just a little more. “You don’t have to put up with it, you know.”
Caitlyn’s brow twitched, but she still didn’t look up.
“She probably doesn’t even realize how much she steamrolls over people,” Maddie continued. “It’s just what she does, right? Rushes in, makes decisions, leaves everyone else to deal with it.” A beat. “And you always let her.”
Caitlyn’s jaw clenched.
Maddie’s voice softened, careful, gentle. “Maybe you should stop giving her the chance to mess with your head.”
Caitlyn finally looked up. “What are you saying?”
Maddie leaned in slightly, voice lowering as she softened her tone. “I mean, take some space. Give both you and Vi a chance to figure out what’s really going on in your heads. Maybe she’ll realize she messed up.”
She paused for a moment, watching Caitlyn carefully. “And maybe you’ll get the space to think about whether or not she’s really worth it.”
Caitlyn looked down, her fingers still gripping the edge of the textbook, her thoughts drifting. After a long pause, she finally leaned back in her chair, her gaze flicking away as she mulled it over.
“…Maybe you’re right.”
Caitlyn let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of it all seemed to settle in. “I think I just need some time alone,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, “I’ll… I’ll figure it out.”
Maddie gave a small, reassuring smile as Caitlyn started to gather her things. “I’m here if you ever want to talk, okay?” she said, her voice softer now, a hint of warmth in it.
Caitlyn paused, glancing back at her for a moment. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, her lips curling into a brief, tired smile. “Thanks, Maddie.”
With that, she turned and walked toward the library doors, her mind still tangled in the mess of emotions, but for the first time in days, the weight of it seemed a little lighter.
Caitlyn was halfway to the Ravenclaw dorms when she rounded a corner and almost collided with Jayce.
"Whoa, sorry!" he said, his usual energetic self, eyes wide as he stepped back with a grin. "Didn't see you there!"
Caitlyn blinked, a little caught off guard by his sudden appearance. She’d been lost in her thoughts and wasn’t expecting to bump into anyone, least of all Jayce - the man was practically living in the Tinkerers’ workshop these days.
He straightened up, his expression softening when he saw the exhaustion on her face. "You doing okay?"
Caitlyn shrugged slightly, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine, just tired," she lied, trying to brush off his worry.
Jayce studied her for a moment, debating whether or not to push his luck. Seemingly deciding against it, he ruffled the younger girl’s hair before continuing down the hall. After two steps he stopped, suddenly remembering something, whipping around. "Hey, have you visited Vi yet?"
Caitlyn hesitated, a sharp pang of discomfort running through her chest. "Uhh, no, I don’t think she would want to see me," she muttered, looking away.
Jayce’s expression remained warm, though a little more serious. "You should," he said quietly, a gentle nudge in his tone. "She’s practically losing her mind down there, and I know she misses you."
Caitlyn shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Jayce's gaze. "I don’t think it’s that simple," she muttered, her fingers tracing the edge of her sleeve.
Jayce paused, his brow furrowing slightly. He had known Caitlyn long enough to see when she was hiding something. "Wait... did something happen between you two? Apart from the Graphorn incident?"
Caitlyn’s heart skipped a beat, and she hesitated for a moment too long. She opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come out. Her thoughts swirled, too tangled to form a coherent answer.
Jayce didn’t press, but he didn’t back off either. He took a small step closer, his voice soft but insistent. "Cait, you can talk to me. Whatever happened, I’m sure Vi would want you to talk to her."
Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, and she clenched her fists at her sides. "It’s not that easy," she said again, though her voice wavered more than she wanted it to. "I don’t even think she wants to talk to me anymore."
Jayce’s brow furrowed further, and his voice softened, his usual energy now replaced by a quiet, sincere tone. "That can't be true, Cait," he said, his eyes searching hers. "She’s got hurt, sure, but she doesn’t blame you. She wouldn’t want you to feel like this."
Caitlyn squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, frustration tightening her chest. "Look, I just… can't. Not now," she said, her voice a little strained, almost pleading with herself as much as with Jayce. "I need some time, alright? To … think."
Jayce stared at her for a moment, the warmth in his gaze never faltering. He seemed to understand more than he let on but didn't push. "I get it," he said quietly, though his concern still lingered. "Just don’t leave it too long, okay? You both care for each other, remember that."
Caitlyn nodded silently, her face tight with emotion, before turning and walking away without another word.
The Tinkerers’ Workshop was quiet. Normally, the after-class hours would be filled with movement—Vi stress-testing some reckless project, Powder leaving scorch marks on her workbench, Ekko keeping them all from burning the place down. But tonight, it was just Viktor and Jayce.
The stillness wasn’t unwelcome, but it was noticeable. The absence of their usual chaos made the space feel larger. More focused.
Jayce stretched his arms over his head, exhaling loudly before dropping them to his sides. "Alright," he said, rolling his shoulders, "we have to be close. I refuse to accept that we’re this bad at basic communication."
Viktor, hunched over their worktable, didn’t look up. "It is not basic communication," he corrected, adjusting the enchanted circuit in his hands with meticulous care. "We are attempting to send magic through a continuous link between two devices, one that does not degrade over distance. If it were basic , someone else would have done it already."
Jayce snorted, leaning over the table. "So what I’m hearing is, we’re geniuses for even getting this far."
Viktor shot him a dry look. "Yes, Jayce. That is always your takeaway."
Jayce grinned, unbothered, and picked up one of the devices. The pair of enchanted communicators weren’t much to look at—small, sleek, and rune-inscribed, resembling compact mirrors more than walkie-talkies. They’d gotten them to sync, but no matter how many times they adjusted the enchantment, the sound never came through properly.
Jayce pressed the rune activation, clearing his throat. "Testing, testing. Viktor, if you can hear this, tell me how handsome I am."
He shot Viktor a smirk, but as usual, the second device remained silent. Not even static this time.
Jayce groaned, flopping onto the worktable dramatically. "This sucks ." His voice came out muffled against the wood.
Viktor sighed, rubbing his temple. " Subpar methodology sucks."
Jayce’s head snapped up. "Oh, you did not just insult my methodology."
Viktor arched an eyebrow, tapping a quill against his notebook. "When your method consists of ‘try the same thing five times and hope the universe takes pity on us’? Yes. Yes, I did."
Jayce huffed. "Fine. You show me how its done."
Viktor adjusted the dials on his device with careful precision. Jayce watched as he narrowed his eyes in concentration, his fingers moving deftly over the runes. He’d always admired how focused Viktor could get, how everything else faded away when he was solving a problem.
Jayce found himself watching him too closely and quickly turned his attention back to his own device, clearing his throat. "So, what’s the theory now?"
Viktor hummed in thought. "The binding spell is stable, but something is interfering with the sound transmission. Possibly a fluctuation in the rune array…" His fingers brushed over the enchanted runes again, his wand sparking as he whispered an incantation under his breath. Almost immediately, the air around them crackled with heat. Small bursts of magic shot out of the devices, lighting up the workshop with bright flashes of light.
Viktor didn’t flinch. He simply adjusted a few more runes, eyes narrowed in concentration, his expression unbothered as another flare of heat shot past his face.
Jayce, on the other hand, although well-acquainted with Viktor’s disregard for the dangers of hot magic, flinched at every flicker of light. He pulled his sleeve up, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, and shifted away just slightly. "Do you ever think maybe you’re playing with fire a little too literally?" he said, though it was more of a reflex than real concern.
Viktor didn’t even flinch, eyes still focused on the runes as he adjusted the spell. "What can I say? I enjoy making things heat up."
Jayce rolled his eyes, trying to shake off the lingering warmth in the air. He took a deep breath and returned his focus to his walkie, hoping a change in approach would make a difference. He tapped a rune with his wand, muttering under his breath, but the device still didn’t respond.
Frustrated, Jayce shook the communicator sharply, as if it might just start working if he gave it enough of a jolt. A sudden spark erupted from the device, lighting up the workbench, and before Jayce could react, the spark caught onto a stray piece of parchment and ignited.
The small flame flickered to life, curling upward.
"Shit," Jayce muttered, scrambling to grab a cloth, swatting at the fire, which only spread slightly, licking the edge of another stack of papers.
The noise and sudden movement caught Viktor’s attention. His head snapped up, his eyes wide as he saw the fire beginning to spread. His calm demeanor instantly shifted. “Jayce!” Viktor’s voice shot through the silence of the workshop, panic lacing his usually steady tone.
Jayce fumbled, finally managing to smother the small flame, but not without causing a bit more of a mess in the process. “I didn’t—uh—mean to start a fire!” he stammered, looking up at Viktor with a sheepish grin, though his pulse was still racing.
Just then, Viktor’s walkie let out a crackling sound—a burst of static that made him freeze.
“Fire!”
Viktor’s eyes widened. He stared at the device, then back at Jayce, disbelief creeping into his expression. "Did—did it just—"
They both went still .
Then Jayce lunged forward, grabbing Viktor’s sleeve in excitement. " Holy shit , Viktor! Did you hear that?"
Viktor, still staring at the device as if it had just defied the laws of magic itself, finally let a small, satisfied smile slip through. "I did."
Jayce laughed, gripping Viktor’s arm tighter before realizing he was still holding onto him. He let go abruptly, but the charged air between them didn’t fade. Viktor glanced at him, eyes flickering with something unreadable, before quickly turning back to the project.
“We need to figure out what just happened,” Viktor said, voice sharp with focus as he grabbed his notebook. He flipped back several pages, scanning over his previous notes. “We have been attempting this for weeks. What changed?”
Jayce ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting between the communicators. “I don’t know—I shook mine, it sparked, it caught fire—”
Viktor sighed, rubbing his temple. “Yes, thank you, Jayce. But which part of that sequence actually triggered the response?”
Jayce frowned, thinking. “The spark?”
“The spark alone should not have affected the enchantment. Unless…” Viktor’s eyes lit up, his fingers flying over the communicator as he inspected the runes. “Unless the magical energy surge from the fire caused a temporary stabilization of the transmission spell.”
Jayce narrowed his eyes. “But I only set mine on fire, not yours, so why would it stabilize both?”
Viktor’s expression flickered with realization. “Wait—let’s test if mine sends a message.”
He grabbed his communicator and pressed the rune activation. “Jayce, if you can hear this, I was right and you were wrong.”
Jayce’s communicator crackled. Viktor’s voice, slightly distorted but clear, echoed back at them.
Jayce let out a triumphant laugh. “Alright, that’s actually kind of insane.” He picked up his own device, turning it over in his hands. “What if the spark burned off some residue inside that was causing interference? I did do that oil test last time.”
Viktor snapped his fingers, eyes bright. “Yes! That would explain the inconsistency—we were unknowingly introducing interference with each test. The fire burned it away, allowing the runes to function properly!”
Jayce grinned. “So, in conclusion… I fixed it.”
Viktor scoffed. “Yes, by accidentally setting something on fire. Truly, you are an inspiration to inventors everywhere.”
Jayce clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s all I wanted to hear. Okay, but we need to test the range. If this actually works—”
Before Viktor could stop him, took off, practically sprinting across the workshop.
“Jayce—” Viktor started, but Jayce was already halfway to the door.
“Testing, testing—Viktor, can you hear me?” Jayce’s voice crackled through Viktor’s communicator, the transmission only slightly distorted.
Viktor rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smirk tugging at his lips. “Yes, Jayce. I can hear you.”
Jayce whooped and bolted out the door. “Okay, how about now?”
The sound came through a little fainter but still audible.
Viktor adjusted the dials, watching the rune array shift slightly as the magic stabilized. “Still working.”
Jayce’s voice rang out again, slightly breathless. “Alright, I’m going further!”
Viktor could hear the pounding of Jayce’s footsteps as he ran down the hall. A few distant shouts echoed in the background—students probably giving him weird looks as he sprinted past them like a lunatic.
Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jayce, if you run into someone and knock them over, I will deny any association with you.”
“Noted! But more importantly—does it still work?”
Viktor held the communicator closer, listening. The connection wavered for a split second but held steady.
“Yes, still functioning. You are how far away?”
There was a pause, then Jayce’s voice came through, slightly out of breath. “Uhh… somewhere near the staircases? Hang on—I’m going up a floor!”
Viktor groaned, rubbing his temple. “Of course you are.”
“Holy shit, it still works! Viktor, this is actually incredible!”
Despite himself, Viktor felt the excitement bubbling under his usual reserved exterior. The spellwork was holding. This was an actual breakthrough.
Still, he huffed, shaking his head. “Yes, yes, groundbreaking discovery. Now come back before you break your neck on the moving staircases.”
“On my way!” Jayce’s laughter carried through the communicator before the connection cut out, replaced only by the distant sound of his rapid footsteps thundering back toward the workshop.
Viktor exhaled, shaking his head as he made a quick note of their findings. “He is going to crash into something.”
Almost on cue, a loud “Ow—dammit!” crackled through, followed by a muffled thud.
There was a pause, some shuffling, and then—
“Jayce?” A smooth, unimpressed voice drifted through the speaker. “Are you actually running through the halls like a headless chicken?”
“Jayce, what just happened?” Viktor’s voice crackled through again, clear as day.
Mel froze. She glanced around, then back at Jayce. “Viktor?”
Jayce blinked, then grinned, handing her the device. “Oh. Yeah. That’s him.”
Mel stared at the device, then at Jayce. “That’s—him?”
Through the speaker, Viktor’s voice came again, slightly impatient. “Yes, that is me. I assume you did not spontaneously develop the ability to hear my thoughts.”
Mel took a slow breath. “Jayce. Why can I hear Viktor when I don’t see Viktor?”
Jayce’s grin grew even wider, his excitement practically bouncing off of him. “We got it working! Our communicator—it actually works now! We’re hearing each other even when we’re not in the same room!”
Mel’s eyes widened with shock and excitement. “No way. That’s amazing!”
Unable to contain himself, Jayce leaned in and kissed her quickly on the lips, feeling the energy of the moment coursing between them.
“I know right! Anyways, I gotta get back to work!” Without another word, he gave her a bright smile and dashed off toward the workshop.
Mel stood there for a moment, still feeling the warmth of the kiss, the excitement buzzing in the air around her. The communicator in her hand buzzed again.
“He forgot the device, didn’t he?”