Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted - Chapter 290

Chapter 290: Ava: Imbalance
“You’re really bad at taking care of yourself, aren’t you?”

The little bit of life I’d managed to bring back to the forest is already dwindling, but the spirit—Grimoire, I’m pretty sure—is floating in the air when I open my eyes, lying on their side with their head propped on their hand.

“Excuse me?” What a welcome.

“Not eating. Don’t even notice you have a fever. Wild magic inside of you.” They shake their head. “You’ll implode at this rate.”

A fever? My forehead feels cool to touch. “I don’t have a fever.”

“Your hand is as hot as your—never mind. Not my problem if humans want to kill themselves.” They roll over, presenting their back to me.

“What do you mean by wild magic? And why would I implode?”

The spirit waves their hand dismissively, not even bothering to look at me. Their indifference is frustrating.

Last time, they spoke with me after I connected with the magic hidden here.

Fine. If that’s what it takes to get answers, I’ll try again.

Once I focus, the hidden magic pulses beneath the lake, calling my attention.

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.”

“I’m still learning. My teacher—I was separated from my teacher. I’m on my own right now.”

“You can learn without a teacher, if you pay attention. That’s the problem with you humans. 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 consume—I 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, seafoam-colored 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.”

I lean 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 upside-down 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 right-side up again, hovering cross-legged 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 chuckle. “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 found clever workarounds, but they’re still missing the bigger picture.”