Filed to story: Tangled in Moonlight Unshifted Novel by Lenaleia
I prefer you stay out of my head.
I sink into the nearest chair, watching them like a tennis match. The bickering is almost… comforting. Normal. A break from all the heavy decisions weighing on us.
“But think of all we could learn!” Grimoire spreads his arms wide. “The secrets of the past, the true nature of your bond with Ava—“
The true nature of my foot up your—
“Selene!” I bite back a laugh. “Be nice.”
He started it.
Grimoire floats upside down again, his hair defying gravity this time. “I merely suggested a perfectly reasonable course of action.”
Reasonable? You want to go poking around in my head!
“Well, it’s not like you’re using all of it.”
Selene’s growl fills the room. I will bite you.
“You can’t bite a spirit.”
I can bite you as a book.
“Children,” I interrupt, unable to keep the smile from my voice. “Play nice.”
Grimoire rights himself with a dramatic sigh. “I’m simply saying, if there are memories lost, they might be important ones.”
They’re still my memories, Selene snaps. Mine. Not yours to rifle through like old newspapers.
“But—“
No.
“What if—“
Also no.
“You’re being unreasonable.”
You’re being pushy.
I lean back, crossing my arms. “You know, Selene, he does have a point. Those memories could be important.”
Not you too. Her head droops, betrayal echoing through our bond. I thought you were on my side.
“I’m always on your side. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see his point too.”
Grimoire preens. “Thank you, Ava.”
Fine. You want to know what’s in my head? Selene bares her teeth. Mostly it’s ways to make you disappear.
“How creative of you.” Grimoire circles her slowly. “But surely there must be something else in there. Something about the Goddess, perhaps.”
I press my fingers to my temples. “You two are giving me a headache.”
He started it, Selene repeats, but there’s less heat in it now.
“And I’m finishing it.” I fix them both with what I hope is a stern look. “Grimoire, stop pushing. Selene, stop antagonizing him.”
They both manage to look somewhat chastened. For about three seconds.
“But if we just—“
Touch my memories and die.
So much for that.
A flutter ripples through my magic, like a bird testing its wings. The sensation distracts me from Selene and Grimoire’s bickering.
“Do you feel that?” My hand presses against my sternum.
Grimoire pauses his orbit around Selene’s head. “Feel what?”
“My magic. It’s… moving.” The flutter comes again, stronger this time. Not unpleasant, just strange. Like bubbles rising in champagne. “Is that normal?”
“Define moving.” Grimoire drifts closer, peering at my chest as if he could see through it.
“Like butterfly wings. Or maybe…” I search for the right words. “Like when your stomach drops on a roller coaster, except it’s not my stomach. It’s my magic.”
“Ah.” He nods, floating back. “Your awareness is increasing.”
The flutter comes again, stronger this time. “But why now? I’ve been using magic for weeks.”
“And purifying corruption for days. That’s intensive work, requiring precise control and awareness. It’s natural your sensitivity would increase.”
“So nothing’s wrong?”
“Nothing at all. Though you might start noticing other sensations as your awareness grows. Temperature changes, pressure differences, that sort of thing.”
I rub my chest where the feeling is strongest. “Will it always feel this… obvious?”
“You’ll get used to it. Like background noise or the weight of clothes against your skin. Though you might want to pay attention to any dramatic changes. Your magic could be trying to tell you something.”
“Great. More cryptic magical messages to decipher.”
At least these ones don’t involve ancient artifacts, Selene offers, apparently done sulking.
“Small mercies.” The flutter settles into a gentle pulse, barely noticeable now that I’m not focusing on it. “Is this what you feel all the time, Grimoire?”
“No. You’re probably feeling it moving inside of you. Even when you aren’t using it, there’s always a bit of circulation going on. It doesn’t just sit there.”
That’s something I already knew; I can sense it when I meditate.
“Your sensitivity will continue to develop,” Grimoire says.
The flutter picks up again, like my magic knows we’re talking about it. “Will it affect my control?”
“Only positively. The more aware you are of your magic, the more precisely you can direct it.” He demonstrates by creating a tiny ball of light that dances between his fingers.
“That makes sense.” I watch the light show, noting how smoothly it moves. I can’t replicate that. “Though I could do without the constant reminder that I’m basically a magical battery.”
Grimoire snorts. “You’re far more than that.”
“Yeah?” The flutter intensifies, almost like agreement. Is it possible for magic to have personality? Because I swear mine does. “What am I then?”
“A work in progress.” He grins at my mock glare. “But one with tremendous potential.”
Snow crunches under my boots as I pace, each step carving deeper tracks into the pristine cover of snow that swept in overnight.
Three steps left. Three steps right. My breath clouds in front of my face.
“Just knock already,” I mutter to myself.
You’ve been out here twenty minutes, Selene points out.
“Not helping.”
How do you tell someone they might be corrupted by dark magic? ‘Hey, noticed you’ve been acting weird lately, mind if I check for evil taint?’ Yeah, that’ll go over well.
The door flies open with a bang that makes me jump. Ivy stands in the doorway, her usual perfect appearance nowhere to be found. Dark circles ring her eyes, and her chestnut hair hangs limp around her face.
“What do you want?” Her voice comes out raspy, like she’s been gargling glass.