The Florida sun beat down mercilessly as I made my way through the winding streets of Ybor City. My phone, miraculously still functioning after Cerys's text, felt like a ticking time bomb in my pocket. With my luck and the ambient magic buzzing through the air, it was only a matter of time before it decided to give up the ghost entirely.

"Found something interesting. Get your ass to my shop. - C"

Those words kept replaying in my mind, each repetition spawning a new, increasingly outlandish scenario. Knowing Cerys, "interesting" could mean anything from a sentient dust bunny to a portal to the seventh circle of Hell. Last time she'd used that particular phrase, I'd ended up chasing a herd of invisible, kleptomaniac goats through downtown Tampa. Try explaining that to the Wardens without sounding like you've lost your mind.

I turned onto 7th Avenue, the heart of Ybor's historic district. Among the cigar shops and trendy bars, The Blackthorn Emporium stood out like a sore thumb—if that sore thumb was attached to the hand of a particularly flamboyant wizard. The Victorian-style building seemed to flicker at the edges, as if it couldn't quite decide which dimension it wanted to exist in. Wrought iron curlicues twisted into impossible shapes, forming patterns that hurt the eyes if you looked at them too long. The glass in the windows rippled like water, distorting the eclectic display of curiosities behind them.

A neon sign proclaimed "The Blackthorn Emporium: Curiosities & Antiquities" in lurid purple. Beneath it, in smaller, ever-changing text, various slogans appeared and disappeared: "We put the 'curse' in concierge!" "Hexes, Hexes, Read All About It!" and my personal favorite, "Fae-bulous Deals Inside!"

I stood there for a moment, steeling myself. Entering Cerys's domain was never a simple affair. Our history was... complicated, to say the least. Ex-lover, current friend, business rival, occasional partner in magical crime—Cerys Blackthorn defied easy categorization. She was as beautiful as she was dangerous, with a wit sharper than any blade and a moral compass that only occasionally pointed north.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door, setting off a cascade of chimes that sounded suspiciously like they were giggling. The air inside was cool and thick with the scent of old books, exotic incense, and something wild and green that I could never quite place. Cerys called it the smell of Otherworld. I called it a marketing gimmick.

"Well, well," a lilting voice called from somewhere in the depths of the shop. "If it isn't Tampa's second-best magical antiquities dealer. Took you long enough, Dex. I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost in the mundane world."

I rolled my eyes, following the voice. "Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you, Cerys. Second-best, that is. And for your information, I was in the middle of preventing a banshee from starting a romance novel book club. You know, actual work."

As I rounded a corner, weaving between shelves laden with objects that defied description (and in some cases, physics), I finally caught sight of her. And as always, the sight of Cerys Blackthorn took my breath away—sometimes literally, depending on what kind of mood she was in.

Today, she was perched atop a ladder, reorganizing a shelf of what looked like ordinary snow globes. But as I watched, the miniature scenes inside them played out in real-time – tiny epic battles and love stories unfolding in glass spheres. Her wild mane of auburn curls seemed to move of its own accord, defying gravity and common sense in equal measure. When she turned to look at me, her eyes were a deep, forest green. Tomorrow, who knew?

"A banshee book club?" Cerys's laugh was like wind chimes in a storm – beautiful and slightly terrifying. "Now that I'd pay to see. Don't suppose you got it on video? Could be a new revenue stream for us. 'Supernatural Reality TV: When Monsters Meet Literature.'"

I snorted, leaning against a nearby shelf. "Yeah, because what I really need is more paperwork explaining to the Wardens why I'm monetizing magical beings. I'll pass, thanks."

Cerys descended the ladder with inhuman grace, each step smoother than silk. As she reached the bottom, she gave me a onceover that felt like it lasted several eternities. Her lips curled into a smile that was equal parts mischief and danger.

"Oh, Dex," she purred, closing the distance between us. "Always so responsible. Don't you ever get tired of playing by the rules?"

I took a step back, my heart racing. This close, I could smell her perfume—a heady mix of night-blooming flowers and ozone. It brought back memories of stolen kisses in moonlit groves and whispered promises that always came with a hidden cost.

"The rules are there for a reason, Cerys," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Someone's got to keep the balance."

She reached out, tracing a finger along my jaw. "And that someone always has to be you, doesn't it? My noble Warden."

I caught her wrist gently, moving her hand away. "I seem to recall the last time I threw caution to the wind with you, I ended up owing a favor to a troll crime syndicate. My noble head prefers staying attached to my shoulders, thank you very much."

Cerys's laugh this time was gentler, almost fond. "Oh, come now. That was hardly my fault. How was I to know they'd take offense to a little magical money laundering?"

"Cerys," I said, exasperation creeping into my voice. "You literally turned their money into laundry. Socksplosions in their vaults for weeks. I'm still finding argyle in places argyle should never be."

She waved a hand dismissively, but I could see the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Details, details. Besides, you have to admit it was fun. When was the last time you really let loose, Dex? Embraced the chaos instead of always trying to contain it?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Look, as much as I'd love to take a trip down memory lane and rehash all the ways you've nearly gotten me killed—or worse, fired—you said you found something interesting. Care to elaborate, or did you just miss my charming company?"

Cerys's expression shifted, curiosity replacing amusement. With a wave of her hand, the "Open" sign on the door flipped itself, and the windows frosted over, ensuring our privacy.

"Always business with you," she said, but there was no real reproach in her tone. "Fine, fine. But you might want to sit down for this, darling. It's a doozy."

With another gesture, a nearby armchair—which I could have sworn was just a pile of books a moment ago—scooted forward. I eyed it warily before sitting down, half-expecting it to try and eat me. You could never be too careful in Cerys's domain.

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"Alright," I said, settling in. "I'm sitting. Hit me with your 'interesting' find. And please, for the love of all that's magical, tell me it doesn't involve any more invisible livestock."

Cerys's grin was positively feline as she perched on the edge of her desk. "Oh, Dex," she said, reaching for a folder. "This is so much better than goats."

She paused dramatically, her fingers tracing the edge of the folder. I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Cerys. The suspense is killing me. Almost as quickly as your penchant for theatrics is killing my patience."

"Always in such a rush," she tutted. "You know, for someone who deals in antiquities, you have a remarkable lack of appreciation for the art of anticipation."

I leaned forward, arching an eyebrow. "And for someone who's lived for centuries, you have a remarkable talent for wasting time. Spill it, Blackthorn."

She laughed, a sound like silver bells tinkling in a graveyard. "Oh, very well. Since you asked so nicely." With a flourish, she opened the folder and pulled out a stack of papers. "Tell me, Dex, what do you know about the Schrodinger Institute?"

I frowned. "The physics research center? Not much. They do a lot of work with quantum mechanics, I think. Why?"

Cerys's eyes glittered. "What if I told you that dear old Erwin wasn't just interested in the state of cats in boxes?"

She handed me the papers. At first glance, they looked like ordinary scientific documents – charts, graphs, dense paragraphs of academic jargon. But as I looked closer, certain phrases jumped out at me.

"'Quantum entanglement as a potential explanation for sympathetic magic'? 'Wave function collapse and its relation to ritualistic practices'?" I looked up at Cerys, my mind racing. "This is..."

"A scientific approach to studying magic," she finished, nodding. "Written by researchers at the Schrodinger Institute. And before you ask, yes, I've verified their authenticity. These aren't some crackpot theories – this is genuine research from a respected institution."

I whistled low. "This is big, Cerys. If a mundane organization has gotten this close to understanding magic..."

"It could change everything," she agreed. "The balance between our world and theirs, the very nature of what we do – it's all at stake."

I continued scanning the documents, my excitement growing. "Look at this – they're referencing legends and myths from all over the world, trying to correlate them with quantum phenomena. There's stuff in here about Norse runes, Egyptian hieroglyphs, even some obscure Polynesian creation myths."

Cerys nodded, her expression uncharacteristically serious. "And that's not all. Keep reading."

I flipped to the next page and felt my breath catch. There, in neat, scientific prose, was a reference to something called "The Conduit."

"Cerys," I said slowly, "what exactly am I looking at here?"

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What you're looking at, my dear Dex, is the potential discovery of the century. The Conduit, if these researchers are to be believed, is an artifact of immense power. Something that could, theoretically, bridge the gap between science and magic completely."

I sat back, my mind reeling. "That's... that's impossible. An artifact like that – we'd know about it. The Wardens, the Fae Courts, someone would have found it by now."

Cerys's smile was enigmatic. "Would they? Think about it, Dex. An artifact that powerful – who's to say it hasn't been hiding in plain sight all along?"

I was about to respond when a sudden commotion from one of the shelves caught my attention. A small, ornate music box had started to vibrate violently, emitting a high-pitched whine.

Cerys sighed. "Oh dear, not again. Dex, be a darling and calm that down, would you? It gets tetchy when it overhears exciting news."

I smirked, seeing an opportunity. "Sure thing, darling," I said, mimicking her tone from earlier. I stood up, making my way to the shelf. As I approached the music box, I let a small current of electricity flow through my fingers.

"Now, now," I cooed at the box, "no need to get all wound up." I touched it gently, letting the electricity dance across its surface. The box shuddered, then began to play a tinkling melody. But instead of the classical tune it was probably meant to produce, it started belting out a rock song about a mystical woman, famously performed by Fleetwood Mac.

Cerys's eyes widened. "Dex! What did you do?"

I put on my most innocent expression. "Me? Nothing. I just calmed it down, like you asked. Not my fault if it has impeccable taste in music."

The look Cerys gave me could have curdled milk. "You think you're so clever, don't you? Just wait until the next time you need a magical tune-up. We'll see who's laughing then."

I grinned, unrepentant. "Aw, come on. You have to admit, it's an improvement. Besides, you love my sparkling personality."

She rolled her eyes, but I could see the corner of her mouth twitching. "I tolerate your personality, at best. Now, if you're quite done electrocuting my inventory, can we get back to the matter at hand?"

I made my way back to the chair, the music box still crooning about black magic in the background. "Right, sorry. This Conduit thing. I've got to say, Cerys, it sounds a bit far-fetched. An artifact that bridges science and magic? If something that powerful existed, we'd have heard about it before now."

Cerys leaned forward, her eyes glinting. "That's just it, Dex. Maybe we have heard about it, but didn't recognize it for what it was. Think of all the legends, the myths about objects of great power. What if they were all talking about the same thing?"

I frowned, scanning the documents again. "I don't know, Cerys. It seems like a stretch. But," I added, seeing her face fall slightly, "I have to admit, this research is intriguing. A scientific approach to studying magic... that could be dangerous in the wrong hands."

She nodded eagerly. "Exactly. Whether the Conduit exists or not, the fact that a respected institution like the Schrodinger Institute is looking into this is big news. We need to find out more."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Alright, I'm listening. What's our next move? We can't exactly walk into the Schrodinger Institute and ask for a tour of their secret magical research lab."

Cerys's expression turned thoughtful. "No, but we might know someone who can get us more information. Do you remember Dr. Elara Vance?"

I frowned, thinking. "The name sounds familiar. Wasn't she that physicist who caused a stir a few years back? Something about unconventional theories?"

"The very same," Cerys nodded. "She was laughed out of academia for suggesting that certain 'paranormal' phenomena might have scientific explanations. Last I heard, she was doing independent research right here in Tampa."

"And you think she might know something about this Schrodinger Institute research?" I asked, still skeptical but admittedly curious.

Cerys shrugged. "It's worth a shot. At the very least, she might be able to make more sense of these documents than we can. Plus, if the Institute is really onto something, Elara might be in danger. We could be killing two birds with one stone – gathering information and potentially protecting someone who's stumbled too close to our world."

I nodded slowly. "Alright, I'm in. But Cerys," I fixed her with a stern look, "no tricks this time. If we're really dealing with something as potentially significant as this research, we can't afford any of your usual Fae mischief. Deal?"

Cerys placed a hand over her heart, the picture of innocence. "Dex, darling, you wound me. When have I ever been anything but completely straightforward with you?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Do you want that list alphabetically or chronologically?"

She laughed, the sound bright and genuine this time. "Oh, very well. You have my word – no tricks. Scout's honor." She held up her hand in what was definitely not the scout salute.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm pretty sure you were never a scout, Cerys."

"Details, details," she waved dismissively. "Now, shall we go pay Dr. Vance a visit? I have a feeling this is the beginning of a very interesting investigation."

As if on cue, the music box in the background switched from the Fleetwood Mac tune to the opening notes of a famous spy movie theme. I shot Cerys a look. "Really?"

She grinned, all innocence. "What? I didn't do anything. Seems like even your electrical tampering has a flair for the dramatic."

I shook my head, fighting a smile. "Fine, let's go. But if we end up in any high-speed chases or defusing any bombs, I'm blaming you."

As we made our way out of the shop, Cerys's laughter trailing behind us, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were stepping into something much bigger than either of us realized. Scientific research into magic, whispers of powerful artifacts – it all added up to a mystery that could have far-reaching consequences.

And if there's one thing I've learned in this business, it's that poking around in magical mysteries always comes with a price. I just hoped we were ready to pay it.