Filed to story: Tangled in Moonlight Unshifted Novel by Lenaleia
Marcus moves silently beside me, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings. Greg brings up the rear, watching our backs. And Selene roams ahead, no longer happy-go-lucky in the snow as she scouts ahead of us all.
It smells strange, she reports.
My bracelet tingles, like it’s gotten too cold against my skin. As we get closer, it sends small, pulsing shocks into my wrist. Not enough to affect the use of my hand or arm, but just irritating enough to keep my attention.
Eventually, we reach the area where the dark, cloud-like energy roams.
To the eye, there’s nothing wrong. All Selene can sense is a strange scent in the air, something she doesn’t recognize.
But I can feel its existence, even if we can’t see it.
I turn to Marcus and Greg, my words firm. “Stay back. It’s dangerous.”
Their faces tighten but they obey, retreating several paces. As they move away, Grimoire materializes before me, no longer in his usual humanoid form. Instead, he’s a small white fox, his fur gleaming against the snow. He bounds forward, stopping just shy of the dark energy’s edge.
To my sight, he’s just standing in the middle of snow.
But I can sense it, just beyond his feet.
“Do you recognize this?”
Grimoire’s ears don’t even twitch as he stares ahead. It has a horrible feeling to it.
I circle the area slowly, hyper-aware of every step. As I move, the energy seems to shift, turning towards me like a flower following the sun. My skin prickles. “I think it’s following me.”
I freeze in place, but the energy continues its slow creep in my direction.
Step back, Grimoire warns. Don’t let it touch you.
Before I can move, Selene lets out a sharp yelp.
Marcus and Greg step forward, but I hold up an arm, waving them back. “Are you okay, Selene?”
Something stung my nose.
Grimoire scratches his ear. Be more careful, wolf.
I can only approximate its location through Ava’s senses, Selene retorts sourly.
Selene’s irritation seems disproportionate to Grimoire’s words, but maybe she’s just embarrassed. “What’s the purpose of this thing?” I ask.
Grimoire’s turns and bounds through the snow until he makes it to my feet, winding around my ankle in a coquettish gesture. He’s learned that his fox form gets him a lot more affection than his human one, even when he’s a child.
It feels like a taint. Not malicious magic sent with purpose, but more of an aftereffect. Like someone performed larger magic without acknowledging its consequences.
“Larger magic—like what?”
I don’t know. You can’t reverse-engineer magic from a taint.
Rubbing my hands together, I squint at the invisible presence. “What does it do?”
Those who touch it will act differently. More aggressive. Violent. Irritable, too.
Are you saying I’m irritable? Selene snaps.
Grimoire turns his face up to mine, his fox eyes somehow managing to look exasperated as he narrows them against the sun. See?
None of that sounds good. “Marcus, Greg,” I call out, “step back even further.” As they comply, I retreat as well, putting more distance between us and the dark energy, even as it oozes a little closer to me.
Grimoire rubs his cheek against my knee. This is as good a time as any to learn to purify.
“Purify? You mean, get rid of this… taint?”
He nods, sitting back on his haunches. Exactly. It’s a crucial skill for any magic user, especially one as powerful as you.
I keep my face absolutely neutral, but can’t help the vague thought in my head that purification sounds more like a religious thing. Maybe something a nun would do. Or a priest. Someone wearing black and white, anyway.
No. Why would it be religious? Magic is magic.
God. Sometimes I forget they can read my thoughts.
“Okay. What do I need to do?”
Grimoire’s fox form finally unwinds from my ankle as he walks a few paces away. Then he sits primly in the snow, his tail curled around his paws. Purification isn’t quite as gentle as it sounds, he begins, and I feel a knot form in my stomach.
“What do you mean?”
You’ll need to draw the energy into yourself, he explains, and then overpower it with your own magic.
This is not what I expected. “Draw it in? Like… absorb it?”
He nods. Exactly. The resulting friction between your magic and the taint creates a sort of burning purification. It neutralizes the harmful energy and can even bolster your own reserves.
The idea of pulling this dark, ominous energy into my body makes my skin crawl. “And what if there’s too much? What if I can’t handle it all at once?”
Grimoire’s ears twitch. In those cases, you’d need to purify in stages or enlist help from other magic users. The stronger you are and the more magical capacity you have, the more efficiently you can handle these situations. This amount should be easy for you, especially with your recent expenditures at the wards.
I grunt, still uneasy about the whole concept. The thought of willingly drawing this taint into myself feels wrong on a visceral level.
It’s relatively easy magic, Grimoire assures me. It just requires fine control, which you’ve been improving lately.
His words are meant to be comforting, but they don’t quite hit the mark. Maybe because it feels kind of like he just told me to eat evil. It’s just wrong. “Does it hurt?”
Grimoire pauses, and that hesitation speaks volumes. It can cause fevers as your body fights against the toxic nature of the taint, he admits. But it doesn’t necessarily hurt in and of itself.
“Fevers,” I repeat, my voice flat. “Great. For how long?”
As long as it’s required.
So, a while. Not super cool, but we can’t just leave a mass of aggression-inducing taint—which really doesn’t sound right—around. It’s invisible. None of our wolves would be able to avoid it, even if they knew its scent.
I close my eyes, too distracted by how it’s not visually there, and reach out with my magic. It surges to my command immediately, as easy as breathing.
The taint feels like an oil slick on water, but light and fluffy, like clouds. It’s strange.
Good, Grimoire encourages. Now, imagine drawing that energy towards you. Like you’re inhaling it.
My eyes snap open. “Wait, literally inhale it?” My lungs cringe at the thought.
No, no, he says quickly. It’s just a visualization technique. You’re pulling it into your magical core, not your lungs.
Closing my eyes again, I inhale as deeply as I can, even as I let my magic touch the strange, icky energy before me.
Soon enough, it’s like some sort of magical siphon as it flows over my magic and into circulation.
As the first tendrils of tainted energy touch my magical core, I gasp. It burns, a cold fire that spreads through my veins. My teeth clench against the discomfort.
Keep going, Grimoire urges. You’re doing well.
I push through the pain, breathing slow and steady, continuing to draw the energy in. It feels endless, like I’m trying to drink an ocean through a straw. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, it slows down.
Now, Grimoire says, push back with your own magic. Overwhelm it.
I gather my strength, feeling my magic surge within me. It crashes against the taint like a wave, and for a moment, I’m afraid it won’t be enough. It’s like being too full after drinking way too much water, magic sloshing this way and that within me, making me sick.
But then I feel something give way, and suddenly I’m flooded with a rush of power.
The burning sensation intensifies, and I can feel sweat beading on my forehead despite the cold. My whole body feels like it’s on fire, and my magic slowly consumes the toxic energy I’ve drawn into my body.
I open my eyes, gasping for breath. The world spins around me, and I stumble, nearly falling face-first into the snow.
Only there’s no snow.