Filed to story: Tangled in Moonlight Unshifted Novel by Lenaleia
I touch my forehead discreetly. It feels cool to me, but the spirit’s words nag at the back of my mind. Could I really have a fever?
Pushing the thought aside, I concentrate on the magic thrumming beneath the water, the faintest whisper of it grazing the land. Reaching out with my senses, I try to coax it to life once more.
At first, nothing happens. The forest remains silent, the air still. But then, slowly, I feel a warmth spreading from my fingertips. It travels up my arms, settling in my chest before radiating outward.
The golden glow returns, seeping from my hands into the ground. It spreads like veins through the earth, bringing color and vitality.
As the magic flows, I become acutely aware of my body. There’s a strange heat building inside me, different from the warmth of the magic. It’s uncomfortable, almost feverish. Maybe the spirit’s right.
I open my eyes, hoping to see the spirit more willing to engage. To my surprise, they’re hovering closer now, their ethereal form shimmering with an intensity that wasn’t there before.
“Interesting,” they muse. “You’re more persistent than I gave you credit for.”
“Does this mean you’ll answer my questions now?”
The spirit tilts their head, regarding me with those unfathomable eyes. “Perhaps. Though I wonder if you’re asking the right questions.”
I bite back a frustrated sigh. Why can’t magical beings ever give straight answers? Is it against some freaking supernatural law they hold deep in their souls? It’s ridiculous.
“No law. It’s just how I am.
Damn. I forgot they can read my thoughts. “Okay, then what should I be asking?”
“Why don’t we start with why you’re here?” They gesture to the revitalized forest around us. “You seek more power, yet you don’t understand the power you already possess.
“Tm s still learning. My teacherI was separated from my teacher. I’m on my own right now.”
you humans.
“You can learn without a teacher, if you pay attention. That’s the problem with Never paying attention. There are no ornate rules to magic. Do you need lessons to breathe?” Magic seems a little different from breathing, though.
“Is it? It doesn’t feel that way to me.”
Well, they’re a spirit, and I’m a human-
“You have a lot of sass in your head for someone asking a favor.
I clear my throat, trying to keep my thoughts out of my head. “Sorry”
The spirit nods, a knowing look in their eyes. “You don’t understand what you’re trying to control, and therein lies the danger. Wild magic, untamed and uncontrolled, is a force of nature. It responds to your emotions, your desires, but without proper guidance, it can consume you. It Isn’t like electricity, flowing only within the conduits they’ve installed. It’s everywhere!”
“When you say consumeI was told I needed a teacher so I wouldn’t kill myself and everyone around me.”
“Ah, yes. That has happened to you humans quite a bit, hasn’t it? They’re rotating in the air, spinning slowly until they’re upside down, seafoamcolored hair reaching the ground. They look ridiculous, despite the grim words and solemn expression.
“Magic requires balance, they explain. “What you’re doing now is drawing power from the world. around you, but you’re not giving anything back. It’s like trying to fill a cup with a hole in the bottom. Eventually, the pressure will become too much”
My mind flashes back. They’d mentioned witches gave back. Is this what they meant? “Yes”
“Then how do wizards control it?”
The spirit’s eyes gleam with an otherworldly light as they consider my question. Their body continues to rotate slowly in the air, defying gravity in a way that makes my head spin if I focus on it too long.
“Wizards,” they begin, their voice taking on a slightly mocking tone, “they think they’re so clever. They’ve found a way to cheat the system, or so they believe.”
Hean forward eager to understand “What do you mean?”
“They use glyphs and wards as a magical dumping ground. When they feel the pressure building up, they funnel that excess energy into these constructs. Imagine a pot of boiling water. Instead. of turning down the heat, they just keep adding more pots to catch the overflow”
The image forms in my mind. “But doesn’t that just move the problem somewhere else?”
“Precisely. The spirit’s eyes flicker with what I can only interpret as approval. “They’re not addressing the root cause. They’re just shuffling the excess around. Their wards are fantastic things, though.”
I consider this for a moment, trying to wrap my head around the concept. “So, they’re not actually in control of the magic? They’re just redirecting it.”
*In a manner of speaking, yes, the spirit nods, their upsidedown position making the gesture look comical. “They’ve created an intricate system of magical plumbing, if you will. But they don’t truly understand the source of the flow. They mime turning on a faucet.
I tilt my head. “What about magicians? Are they different?”
The spirit’s form shimmers, and suddenly they’re rightside up again, hovering crosslegged in the air. “Ah, magicians. They have their own tricks.
I wait, sensing there’s more to come.
“Magicians have found another way to cheat,” the spirit continues. “They’ve discovered that certain rare jewels can act as reservoirs for magical energy. So, they spend their time stockpiling magic into these gems.
My eyes widen. The concept is fascinating. “Like magical batteries?”
“An apt comparison,” the spirit nods. “They pour excess magic into these jewels over time, storing it up. Then, when they need to perform a particularly powerful spell, they draw upon this stored energy.
A twinge of admiration for their ingenuity flickers through me. “That sounds… impressive”
They ch
“Oh, it is. To the uninformed observer, it makes them seem incredibly powerful, They can unleash massive amounts of magic in a single burst, drawing gasps and awe from those around them.”
“But?” I prompt, sensing there’s a catch.
“But it’s still not addressing the fundamental issue,” the spirit says, their voice taking on a more serious tone. “They’re treating magic like a finite resource to be hoarded and expended, rather than understanding its true nature as a flowing, living force:
I nod slowly, trying to process all this information. “So, both wizards and magicians are finding ways to work around the problem of magical buildup, but neither is really solving it?”
“Exactly, the spirit confirms. “They’ve bigger picture:
Leaning forward, 1 stare at the spirit, who seems nonplussed by the intensity of my gaze.
“What?” They sound defensive for the first time.
“You aren’t fond of wizards or magicians, are you?”
They scowl. “I am not fond of humans, human:
“I told you, I’m Lycan. Kind of.
“Hmm.” They don’t sound convinced. I guess I can’t blame them. It isn’t like I can shift.
“You’re Grimoire, aren’t you?”
In between one blink and the next, they’re now standing in front of me, feet firmly planted against the ground and taller than before. How tall? Seven feet? Eight?
Are those flames I see flickering over their skin? Yes. Yes, those are.
Gone is the ethereal, androgynous being. In their place stands a towering figure, flames dancing across skin that seems both solid and intangible. His hair is as red as blood, his eyes an unnerving silver, and he’s unmistakably male.
I keep my eyes on his face.
His hand shoots out, gripping my arm with surprising strength. I try to pull away, but his hold is unyielding.
“How did you know?” His voice, deep and undeniably masculine now, rumbles through me.
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to struggle against his grip. “It seemed pretty obvious in retrospect.” My eyes dart to his face, taking in features that seem both ancient and ageless. “Why do you look and sound different now?”
A smile spreads across his face, transforming his stern expression into something almost warm. “You’re simply seeing me for who I am, Ava Grey”
I glance around, momentarily distracted by the transformation of our surroundings. The clearing, once bordered by decay and darkness, now teems with vibrant life. Lush greenery. stretches as far as I can see, pulsing with an energy that makes my skin tingle.
“Let go of me,” I say, tugging at my arm again.
His grip doesn’t budge. “I can’t. I must maintain contact with you for the transfer.
That sounds a little unnerving. “Transfer? What transfer?”
“I redouble my efforts to shake off his hand, twisting my arm and pushing against his chest with my free hand. It’s like trying to move a mountain.