Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted novel Chapter 236

236 Ava: Magic Training (II) 

236 Ava: Magic Training (II) 

Magister Orion’s version of training is reminiscent of Jericho’s somehow, though he doesn’t insult me or force me to run massive amounts of laps. 

It’s more like this inexorable insistence that he believes in my ability that forces me to try, and try again, and again, until sweat is pouring down my face and back. It’s worse than physical training because it’s an agony that breaks my entire body down from within, but it’s better because I can breathe without feeling like my lungs are burning out. 

Magister Orion’s voice washes over me, a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. “Close your eyes, Ava Grey Block out the world around you. Let your magic flow through your veins.” 

His instructions are the same as before. Simple. Repetitive. Calm. 

I take a deep breath, trying to follow his instructions. My eyes flutter shut, and I attempt to focus inward. Earlier, he told me to stop screwing my eyes shut, but to only rest them like butterfly’s wings. 

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He waxes a little poetic, I’ve noticed. 

“Allow it into your heart, your circulation,” he continues. “Feel it becoming a part of you.” 

Nothing happens in my veins. No warmth, no fizzle, no pop. The magic within me is warm and enveloped in its own little area, probably laughing at me because I can’t figure this out. 

“You’ve blocked it off, treated it like an invasive 

species,” Magister Orion says. “But it’s a part of you, Ava Grey. It always has been. You need to accept it into every fiber of your being. Let it flow through you, from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair.” 

The image of magic coursing through my hair makes me snicker. I can’t help but picture it: every blonde strand glowing like fiber optic cables, leaving me as bright as a Christmas tree. 

“Focus, Ava,” Magister Orion rebukes me gently. “This isn’t a joke. Your magic is serious business.” 

Inod, chastened, and try to concentrate again. This 

exercise feels different from working with the elements. There’s no water to flow with, no fire to ignite. It’s just… me. My power. My essence. 

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But how do I tap into that? 

I reach deep within myself, searching for that elusive spark of magic. It’s there, of course. But it doesn’t go anywhere. 

My body is empty of anything except the rhythmic pulsing of my heartbeat and my slow, deep breathing. 

Forever goes by, ticking away minute by minute. My body aches from the effort. Sweat beads on my forehead and trickles down my back. My muscles 

tremble with exertion. 

Despite having no success, my body is feeling the strain. That must mean something’s happening, right? 

“Relax,” Magister Orion’s voice cuts through my concentration. “You’re trying too hard. Your magic isn’t something to be forced. It’s a part of you, as natural as breathing.” 

Popping my eyes open, I blink against the artificial fluorescent lights this strange room has decided are necessary. “I don’t understand. How can it be natural when I can’t even feel it?” 

“Because you’re looking for it in the wrong place,” he 

evnlaina notiently “Vou’re searching for something 

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236 Ava: Magic Training (II) 

separate from yourself, but your magic isn’t separate. It’s you. The separation is all in your head.” 

He’s wrong. It’s a ball inside of me. I can feel it, sense it, and reach for it at any time. I just can’t access it. 

Still, I try to focus on his words. Maybe it really is in my head. Maybe this little ball of energy in the core of me is just a psychosomatic manifestation of my magical aptitude. 

I close my eyes again, trying to shift my perspective. Instead of reaching for something outside myself, I attempt to sink into my own being. 

But it’s like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands. The harder I try, the more it slips away from me. Saying it is all well and good, but how do you do that? 

It’s just me in my head. 

My voice in the emptiness. 

Nothing else. 

My body feels heavier with each passing moment, worn down by the constant strain. My head throbs, a dull ache pulsing behind my eyes. 

“I can’t do it,” I finally admit, my voice small and 

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defeated. “It’s impossible. I’ve made zero progress.”