Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted - Chapter 366

Chapter 366: Lisa: Improvements
LISA

I am a precision instrument.

Or, well, my wrist brace is.

Okay—the word precision might be stretching it a bit. If I’m within fifty yards of my target, I might be able to get a single hit off in a real fight.

But the real point here is, if I hit my target, their head is going to explode. The power I hold in a single wrist brace might be getting to my head a little.

“Timber!” I shout cheerfully, though no one’s near the tree now falling.

The Grand Sage’s pen scratches across his notepad with manic energy. His white hair sticks up in every direction, like he’s been electrocuted. Which, knowing him, is entirely possible.

“Excellent work today, Lisa. The trajectory calculations are spot on.” He peers at me over his glasses. “Your aim has improved significantly, and we’ve even increased the economy of power consumption.”

Pride swells in my chest. “Thanks to your adjustments on the brace.” I flex my wrist, admiring how the metal catches the weak winter sunlight. “Though I still need to work on my stamina.”

“Nonsense.” He waves his pen at me. “The amount of magical energy required to power these devices is substantial. Your body needs time to adjust.”

“But what if I need to use it in an emergency?” The tree I felled lies in the snow, its branches spread like fallen soldiers. “I can’t ask the bad guys to wait while I catch my breath.”

“Which is precisely why we’re developing alternative power sources.” He flips through his notes. “The blood activation is merely temporary. I have some promising theories about crystalline batteries.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Crystals? Like the ones Ava uses?”

“Similar principle, different application.” He scribbles something else, muttering under his breath. “We could potentially store excess magical energy for later use.”

The concept makes my head spin. “So I wouldn’t need to use my own energy every time?”

“Precisely!” His eyes light up with that mad scientist gleam I’ve come to both love and fear. “Think of it as a magical battery pack. Pre-charged and ready for deployment. It would allow more than just a Fae-blessed owner to use this magitech.”

I rub my arms, trying to warm up. The cold has seeped through my workout clothes, and my sweat is starting to freeze. “But you’d need to use Ava’s power for that, right? She’s already stretching herself too thin.”

“In a sense, yes.”

The Grand Sage’s shoulders slump at my mention of Ava. “That girl works herself to exhaustion. No concept of pacing.”

“She’s just desperate to keep everyone safe.” My throat tightens. The memories of that party flash through my mind—blood and screams and death. Bodies of wolves who died protecting us. Protecting me. “She blames herself for every injury, every death. She takes her role as Luna seriously.”

I can’t blame her. There’s a silent debt on my soul, even though no one’s said a word to me about the lives Westwood lost at that ill-fated party so long ago.

“Much like someone else I know.” The Grand Sage’s keen eyes pierce through me.

I busy myself with adjusting my brace. “At least I’m doing something useful now. These weapons you’re creating could save lives.”

“Well, never you fear. I have no interest in adding to your burdens.” He shuffles through his papers with renewed vigor. “I’ve been developing a theory about creating a magic siphon that would require minimal input from Ava.”

“How would that work?”

“Picture a self-sustaining magical engine.” His hands wave through the air, sketching invisible diagrams. “Once initiated with a small spark of power, it would generate its own energy through a continuous feedback loop. The applications would be revolutionary! We could power entire cities, create defensive barriers that never falter, develop weapons that—” He stops mid-gesture, his enthusiasm deflating. “Well, that’s assuming it’s even possible. Right now it’s just theoretical.”

“It still sounds incredible.” The concept of unlimited magical power makes my head spin. “Like something out of science fiction.”

“Actually…” He adjusts his glasses, peering at his notes. “According to ancient records, such technology once existed. In ancient cities, the ability to harness and perpetuate magical energy was commonplace. But like so many other wonders of the past, that knowledge was lost to time.”

I wonder if Grimoire knows anything about this.

“Tell me more about these ancient cities.” Entertaining myself by puffing out clouds of my breath, I keep pace with the trudging elderly gnome as we head back to Wolf’s Landing. My bodyguards follow behind, as usual. “Where were they supposed to be?”

“Ah.” He shuffles through the snow. “According to legend, they existed in a space between realms. Neither fully in our world nor in the Fae realm. The stories speak of crystal spires that touched the clouds, streets paved with precious metals that conducted magical energy.”

“That sounds…” My nose wrinkles. “Unreal? Like a fairy tale.”

“Indeed. The texts describe gods walking among mortals, sharing their knowledge freely. Magical fountains that could cure any ailment. Buildings that floated in the sky.” He chuckles, closing the journal. “Pure fantasy, most likely. Though the principles behind these stories intrigue me more than their historical accuracy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Consider the concept of the floating buildings. While the story itself may be fiction, it suggests our ancestors understood principles of magical levitation that we’ve lost.” He taps his notepad. “The same applies to their supposed mastery of magical energy. The idea that they could create self-sustaining magical circuits…”

“And that’s where your siphon comes in?”

“Precisely.” He beams at me like a proud teacher. “Whether or not these cities existed is irrelevant. The theoretical framework they present—the possibility of creating a perpetual magical energy source—that’s what fascinates me.”

“But how would it actually work? I mean, even basic spells need some kind of power source, right?”

“Think of it like a waterwheel.” His hands move through the air, sketching invisible diagrams. “The initial push of water starts the wheel turning. Once in motion, the wheel’s movement draws more water, which keeps the wheel spinning. A perfect cycle.”

That sounds too easy. “You think it’ll work?”

“I have no idea.” He adjusts his glasses. “But that’s why we experiment. We learn. We improve. Speaking of which, I think it’s time to bring the brace into some sparring, but there’s a problem.”

My lips twitch. “You mean the one where I might accidentally blow someone’s head off when we’re just trying to practice?”

“Yes. I failed to activate any sort of safety measure for testing purposes. I suppose I should work on that. Your efficacy will come with practice, and you can’t aim at trees forever. We need moving targets, real-time danger.”

The enthusiasm in his words gives me an uneasy sense of deja vu. Like a certain grizzled wolf shifter who loved to throw two girls into intense marathon sessions of running and other calisthenic workouts.

“That sounds… Dangerous.”

“It should be, yes. Otherwise how can we trust you will be able to act in a real emergency? You need training. You need to think while hurt and stunned. Think while on the run. You need to be able to access its power under any circumstance, without faltering.”

Jesus. He’s going to be worse than Jericho.