Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted - Chapter 347

Chapter 347: Lisa: Testing
LISA

“Sorry!”

My voice carries across the clearing, and three shifters wave their hands over their heads in my direction. It could be to say everything’s fine. Or maybe they’re cursing me and want me to die.

Can’t really blame them. They almost got blasted with a ball of fire that went rogue.

“Much farther range than expected,” the Grand Sage muses, completely nonplussed by the near-accident.

The strange metal brace on my wrist glints in the sunlight. It looks more like a prop from a sci-fi movie than a magical weapon. “Are you sure this is safe enough to test? I nearly turned three wolves into barbecue.”

The Grand Sage, lost in thought, mumbles, “Wolves aren’t traditionally cannibals.”

“I don’t think that’s the point.” Sometimes I wonder if his genius comes with a side of selective hearing. He’s always lost in his head.

He snaps back to attention. “Tell me again, what did you feel at the time of activation?”

I take a deep breath, trying to put the sensation into words. “It was like… a surge of uncontrollable power. Like using a chihuahua’s leash on a mastiff.”

The gnome’s fuzzy white eyebrows wiggle together, like two caterpillars turning into one. “I’m not familiar with your words.”

“Right, sorry.” I hold my hands about a foot apart. “Chihuahua, tiny dog.” Then I spread my arms wide. “Mastiff, huge dog. The leash is way too small to control it.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Ah, I see. Remember, you shouldn’t expect full control of the magic, just the ability to influence it.”

“Influence?” I scoff. “I nearly influenced it into killing innocent people.”

The Grand Sage waves his hand dismissively. “They should have stayed behind you.” He turns and shouts to the three wolves, “Stay behind her at all times!”

The men, who are actually my almost ill-fated bodyguards, adjust their positions with perfectly straight faces. I can’t tell if they’re amused or annoyed; just before this incident, the gnome had told them they were perfectly safe where they stood.

“Now,” my obsessive magitech inventor says, rubbing his hands together, “let’s try again. This time, focus on directing the energy rather than containing it.”

“Okay, but if I accidentally set the forest on fire, you’re explaining it to Ava.”

He chuckles. “Deal. Now, concentrate on the brace. You should feel some sort of magic when it activates.”

When I flip the switch on, it hums with energy, like a low level of electricity against my skin. It’s uncomfortable.

“I feel it,” I murmur.

“Good. Now, send your commands down. Remember to use your words. It will only work with the proper vocal commands.”

The brace on my wrist feels alien, yet strangely intimate. The Grand Sage explained that it’s attuned to me through my blood, but the specifics are lost on me. Magic and technology blend in ways I can’t begin to comprehend. All I know is that a part of me is now tied to this device, for better or worse.

“Standby,” I command, my voice steady despite my nerves.

The brace hums to life, warming against my skin. It’s not painful, but definitely uncomfortable—like wearing a heating pad cranked up too high.

“Good,” the Grand Sage nods approvingly. “Now, aim for that tree again.” He points to a massive oak a hundred yards away, well to the left of where my bodyguards had their near-death experience earlier.

I extend my arm, squinting as I try to line up the thin metal strip running along the brace with my target. It’s not exactly precision equipment, but I do my best.

“Shape,” I say clearly, remembering the proper command.

“Visualize it,” the Grand Sage reminds me, his voice eager. “Picture exactly what you want to create.”

I close my eyes for a moment, imagining a sleek, deadly arrow. Opening them, I take a deep breath and give the final command:

“Fire.”

Nothing happens. The warmth against my skin fades, and the brace goes silent.

“Hmm,” the Grand Sage mutters, already fiddling with the device while it’s still on my wrist. His gnomish fingers work with surprising dexterity, opening panels I didn’t even know existed. “Ah, I see. It needs more blood. Fuel’s empty.”

I groan. “Seriously? Again?”

He shrugs, unperturbed. “Trial and error, my dear. It’s all part of the process.”

Sighing, I watch as he produces a small needle. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

The prick is sharp but quick. I squeeze my finger, letting ten drops of blood fall onto a small red crystal nestled within the brace. It glows faintly as it absorbs the offering.

“There we go,” the Grand Sage says, closing everything back up. “Now, let’s try again.”

I nod, steeling myself. “Standby.”

The familiar warmth returns, stronger this time. I aim carefully, picturing the arrow in my mind.

“Shape.”

“Fire.”

This time, there’s a rush of energy. A small, glowing arrow materializes and shoots forward. It’s not the massive fireball from earlier, but it’s still impressive. My excitement is short-lived, however, as the arrow falls short, embedding itself in the ground several feet before the target tree.

The Grand Sage doesn’t seem disappointed. He scribbles in a notebook, muttering, “Approximate 50-foot range. Interesting.”

I lower my arm, feeling a mix of accomplishment and frustration. “Well, at least I didn’t almost kill someone this time.”

“It is progress,” he agrees. “How did it feel this time? With your chihoohas and massives?”

“Chihuahuas and mastiffs.” Correcting him has become an ingrained habit. “It didn’t overwhelm me. I just felt it when it went through.”

“Hmm. Yes, it appears that your intent does matter quite a bit. Very interesting.”

I take aim at the tree again, willing the brace to cooperate. “Standby.”

The familiar warmth spreads through my arm. “Shape.”

This time, I picture a ball of energy in my mind. “Fire.”

A glowing sphere materializes and hurtles forward. It falls short, dissipating harmlessly in the air. Frustration bubbles up inside me, but I push it down. Progress is progress, right?

“Again,” the Grand Sage urges, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

I nod, refocusing. “Standby. Shape. Fire.”

Another arrow forms, sleeker than the first. It travels further but still misses the mark.

One last try. I picture a long, flaming lance in my mind. “Standby. Shape. Fire.”

The brace hums louder than before. A brilliant spear of flame bursts forth, streaking across the clearing. For a moment, I think it might actually reach the tree. But it fizzles out just shy of the target, leaving a scorched patch of grass in its wake, a clear circle without snow.

The brace goes silent. I tap it uselessly, but nothing happens. “I think it’s dead again.”

“Marvelous!” The Grand Sage claps his hands together, seemingly oblivious to my disappointment. “Such variety in the projections! And did you notice the increased range with each attempt?”

I hadn’t, actually. My focus had been on hitting the damn tree. But now that he mentions it, each shot did go a bit further than the last. It’s something, I guess.

A gust of wind cuts through the clearing, and I shiver violently. In all the excitement, I’d forgotten how cold it was out here. I bring my hands to my mouth, breathing on my frozen fingers in a futile attempt to warm them.

“Perhaps we should call it a day,” the Grand Sage suggests, finally noticing my discomfort. “We’ve gathered plenty of data for now.”

“Agreed.” My teeth chatter slightly as I speak. “I could use a hot drink and about twelve blankets.”