Grace of a Wolf

Chapter 154: Grace: Arcana (I)

Lyre waits until I’m calm again, her chin still resting in her palm as she watches me.

"I don’t get it," I finally admit, scrubbing my hands over my face again. It’s not that I’m trying to hide, but just... the pressure and darkness helps me feel a little better. A little less dizzy and lost with the information thrown at me.

Anchors. Divinity. Gods. Fate...

"What don’t you get?"

"Everything. I understand what you’re saying, it just... doesn’t feel real." Like Lyre’s making up a story.

"Hmm." Her fingers tap against the table again. "Well, it’s understandable. You’ll come to know more with time, but it’s against us at the moment. More importantly, Grace, there are things you need to do, now that Chaos has opened your door."

Somehow, I know I’m not going to like whatever she has to say.

"What things?"

"Well." Cool fingers touch the back of my hands, and I pull them away from my face to blink at the rainbow-haired woman in front of me. Lyre smiles faintly. "First, you need to learn to harness your power. I hear you can see arcana now?"

I nod.

"It’s a bit fast, but I suppose I should thank Chaos for this gift, at least. Can you see it at will? Or only when you’re in the middle of your..." Her index finger swirls in the air. "...shenanigans?"

I blush.

"Only when I touch Caine. They look like golden threads."

"Hmm. Interesting. You’re all out of order." Again with the tapping as she frowns. "Can you touch it? Manipulate it? Stop the flow?"

I shake my head. "Not exactly. I can touch it sometimes. I can’t really... stop it. I tried to squeeze it, and it worked a little." We just won’t tell her about the whole strangling-my-boyfriend’s-dick thing.

Some embarrassment just never needs to see the light of day. noveldrama

"How does it feel when you touch it?"

I tilt my head a little, thinking back. "Warm. Almost like a wiggling rope and water at the same time, but sometimes I can’t feel it at all—"

"Hmm." Her finger drums at the table again. "It sounds like your perception and expression are on different planes."

I stare at her blankly.

She sighs. "You see arcana as a thread, but it’s more than squiggly golden lines in the air. It’s part of the air you breathe. Part of the blood running through your body. It’s in every inch of your skin. Everything in this world is made of arcana. If you want to control it, you need to manipulate it from its basest form. Don’t think of it as water, or air, or even a rock. Base arcana is most similar to a gas." She makes a fist with a wry smile. "No matter how much you try to hold onto it, it will always escape your grip."

Okay. This makes some sense. I nod. "So how do I control it, then?"

"Give it purpose. Arcana exists everywhere. Either disperse the density of it, or absorb more. Give it roads and direction, and it will follow your will. If you know where it’s coming from, it’s easy to divert as necessary. What you consider pushing or pulling

Lyre holds out both hands. "When I’m pulling arcana, I’m not yanking it out of its proper existence. It comes to me on my order. I absorb it, and therefore it’s mine." Slowly, a faint, fuzzy ball of golden light appears in her hand. "Try to call it to you. It should be easier, since I’ve already corralled it."

I hold out my hands, palms facing upward, the awkwardness making my fingers tremble slightly. The ball of golden light hovers between Lyre’s hands, pulsing gently like a miniature sun. I squint at it, trying to see beyond what my eyes show me.

Nothing.

I can’t see anything other than what any normal human would—a weird glowing orb that shouldn’t exist but somehow does. My jaw tightens with frustration. Last night with Caine, I’d seen those golden threads so clearly. I’d touched them, manipulated them. I’d felt the power surging between us. Now? Nothing.

"Can’t feel it?" Lyre asks, her cat-like eyes studying my face.

I shake my head, feeling more defeated than I probably should. I’m a beginner. This is all new to me. It would make sense to fail. And yet I feel... frustrated. Annoyed with myself.

I’m surrounded by powerful people, relying on them to keep me safe. I want power, too. At least enough to defend myself a little.

"No. I thought... after last night with Caine, I really thought I’d unlocked something."

A humorless laugh escapes me. Just my luck—I finally discover I’m some mythical being called an Anchor, capable of influencing gods, and I can’t even see magic right in front of my face.

It sounds about right for the kind of life I’ve led so far, but then I feel a little guilty for having such a pessimistic thought in the first place.

Lyre chuckles, the sound surprisingly gentle. She moves her hands forward until they’re beneath mine. "Perhaps you need a more direct approach."

Her palms press against the underside of mine, and the warm orb of light transfers between us. As she slowly pulls her hands away, the golden ball remains, hovering just above my skin.

"Oh!"

The sensation hits immediately; it’s warm and gentle, but the heat it emits is something beyond a surface-level temperature. It tingles, starting at my palms and radiating up my wrists.

The best I can explain it? It feels like holding onto electricity, except the electricity doesn’t hurt. It hums, vibrates, and makes the fine hairs on my forearms stand up.

"The arcana will slowly absorb through your skin," she says, her voice taking on a teacher-like quality. "It’s little more than a trickle, but try to feel it as it does so."

I stare down at the ball of light, trying to understand what I’m feeling. The warmth intensifies, sinking deeper into my hands.

"Focus. If you concentrate hard enough, you might be able to see it."

I narrow my eyes, attempting to look beyond this... physical manifestation.

My breathing slows as I concentrate, blocking out everything else—the sounds filtering in from outside, the diffused hum of the generator, and even the loud blowing of the air conditioners overhead.

There’s just me and this glowing ball of energy, and Lyre’s voice.

"I don’t see anything," I mutter through clenched teeth, trying to force my jaw to relax. I fail. My entire body’s coiled up with the force of trying. "Just the ball."

"Don’t try to see with your eyes," Lyre says. "Your eyes are designed to perceive physical reality, not arcana. Close them."

I hesitate, afraid the ball will disappear or fall if I’m not watching it.

"Trust me," she adds, as if reading my mind. "The arcana isn’t going anywhere. Close your eyes and feel."

With a deep breath, I let my eyelids drop shut. The darkness behind my eyes isn’t complete—there’s a brightness there, the impression of the ball still visible, like when you look at a light and then close your eyes.

"Now what?" I ask, feeling stupid standing here with my hands out and my eyes closed.

"Just feel. Don’t try to control it yet. Just observe."

The warmth in my palms grows more distinct. Without my vision dominating my senses, I become hyperaware of the sensation—how it pulses slightly, how it seems to have a rhythm almost like a heartbeat. The tingling intensifies, and now I can track it moving up my wrists, spreading through my forearms.