A Gift from the Goddess

Book Two – Ch.# 43

“Breathe,” Myra said, gesturing with her hands for me to inhale. “Breathe and hold it.”

We’d been at this for a few hours now, Myra doing her best to teach me what she could. She seemed to know a lot about how the ability worked despite not possessing it herself. Though, as she had already previously pointed out, she’d raised a few generations of Knight children.

Truthfully, I didn’t expect to feel as comfortable around her as I did. We’d only just met but there seemed to be a deeper connection, something that was drawing me to her. A feeling of safety and reassurance in her presence, perhaps.

“…I am,” I muttered.

“Then ask me for this pen,” she said, holding it up in front of me. “Remember to dig deep inside, connect with that spark, and pull it forward.”

I did as she instructed, doing my best to reach for it. But it was difficult, increasingly so. The more we did this, the worse a headache was pulsing in my mind, slowly becoming worse.

I reached… and reached… and reached… and when I thought I could feel the spark, I grabbed a hold of it.

“Myra… could you please give me the pen?” I asked, trying to maintain it.

I watched as her eyes dilated for merely a second, her hand twitching towards me. However, she quickly snapped out of it, clapping her hands to sever the link.

I’d learned this was a method of breaking the influence, the loud noise intending to startle me. Though she had warned me that this may not always work, especially once I become accustomed to the abrupt distraction.

“I know you can do better than that,” she said, pursing her lips.

And I sighed in exhaustion.

“You’re struggling to connect,” she noted. ” Are you holding yourself back? Don’t be afraid to rely on your wolf if you need to. They can help if you let them.”

And I bit the inside of my cheek, uncomfortable.

“I’d… rather not,” I said.

She tilted her head. “Why? What’s the matter?”

“Well… we just don’t, ah… get along, I suppose,” I admitted.

“But you’re the same person?” she said, as if it should have been obvious. “Your wolf is just an extension of yourself.”

And yet I hated that creature with a passion.

“If you are warring with your wolf, Rheyna, then it just tells me you have a lot of conflict inside. To hate her is to hate yourself. And to put blame on her for something she did is merely a method of scapegoating her for your own mistakes, your own guilt.”

I let her words sink in, unsure how to feel.

…Could that really be true? I guess I had blamed the beast for most of my problems despite my own actions being not much better. Anything it had done, I had technically done as well.

My struggle was born out of fear, out of anxiety that things would go wrong if I allowed it even an inch. It was out of a hatred for losing control… out of feeling a painful longing for things I missed.

“How about trying… an emotional stimulus,” she then said, making me look up confused.

She held a finger to her chin as if she were thinking.

“Aria had trouble with her wolf also. She once told me that she learnt how to use her ability by using emotional energy,” she continued. “This is why stressful situations tend to heighten the effect. Perhaps try thinking of something that conveys a strong emotional response for you… then hold onto it as you go again.”

The only strong emotion I was feeling right now was immense defeat and a keen desire for a relaxing bubble bath… but I doubted that would be good enough for this exercise.

And so I paused to think a little deeper.

I had no shortage of emotionally charged memories. I’d lived through enough pain, fear and heartbreak to last me a lifetime. But they were dangerous to use, requiring me to dredge up feelings I’d purposely buried for my own protection.

Though… I guess there were some more recent events that could work….

“Think… then breathe,” Myra instructed. ” Hold it in your chest and concentrate. Connect.”

Connect. Right. Okay.

Connecting deep inside myself… to the newer emotions surrounding my time here….

Something that simply caused my headache to worsen, but I pushed through it.

“…Can I please have the pen?” I asked.

came out

Myra

my lungs as a crease formed between her brows. I

concentrating enough.”

time here, about my connection to Myra. How she felt somewhat like a mother figure, something I’d never known. A gap in

the pen,” I

and shoved her hand against me once more,

dug deeper, to the feelings I was suppressing.

to the anguish of having to grow up

the jealousy over Clarissa, that she had been allowed to grow up with someone who treated her with love and kindness. To the betrayal that Myra had chosen her over her

me the

now, but I did my best

Myra seemed to hesitate.

a confusion coming over

past the barrier in my head… to grab a hold of the deepest corners of my mind.

I saw flashes of memories as I

made

of wolves… of a night filled with stars above.

And running.

So much running.

to stop the tears from flowing now. “Give it to me, Myra.”

me,

the pen, Myra!” I yelled.

gave me what I’d asked

said, her voice in

anything I’d intended to, the memories starting to flash with more frequency.

it. Feel the

All stemming from

leave me,” I cried. “Promise me

changed to one of confusion,

mean?” she

…And I blinked.

and pulled myself out of

I’d gone too

things I didn’t want to recall.

to breathe and then, slowly, I looked back up towards

had worked. Maybe too well. An accomplishment in itself given how resistant she was to

to see her like this, to be completely docile and willing to do anything I asked. In the wrong hands, an ability like this could be

that adding this to my already fatal skillset would only make the damage I could create

maybe too great.

as I took one final look at Myra… I proceeded

she said, coming back to reality. “Did it work?”

her bearings before finally focusing

began to fuss

move as she worked, instead choosing

force it so much,” she scolded. “You’ll learn how to use it eventually. It takes practice. These things aren’t

had just happened, much to my relief, but it still didn’t make me

more potential

I’ll be training this anymore,” I announced. “I appreciate

her hand freezing.

go by Raven these days.

but, instead, her expression became

almost sad that you don’t take after me at all,

“Myra…?”

original Council as well,” she continued. “She

the east. By far one of the most beautiful women

the people forcefully assigned her a

bookcase, bringing it over to show me a picture inside. It contained the four faces I recalled from the painting in Ashwood, Myra’s unchanged one included, but also two other individuals that were

a lot

out. “The Siren… The Angel of Death.” Myra had sighed before saying her own, clearly unhappy with

“…The Raven?”

she said. “With pitch-black hair as dark as a raven’s wing and all the intelligence to match it. Your great-great- grandmother. She was a vital person in the establishment of the Silver Mist but, after

her picture, the resemblance unquestionable.

hurt people?” I asked cautiously.

it’s a symbol