Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 451: Ava: Journal

Crone… My mind races, grasping at fragments of memory. Magister Orion told me about them, I'm almost positive. Something about three priestesses of the Goddess… which one, though? Damn.

You don't seem to be a very good student, Grimoire says thoughtfully.

Oh, shut up.

"It's you, isn't it? It has to be!" Eleanor's face blossoms, her cheeks flushing bright pink as her eyes sparkle in my direction. She steps forward impulsively as she tucks her book into a bag at her side.

Vester stiffens and side-steps to come between us again.

"Stay back," he warns, but Eleanor barely acknowledges him, peeking around him like a curious animal.

"Your magical signature is all over these wards," she breathes, her eyes wide. "I've been tracking energy patterns for months, but nothing like this. The complexity, the layering—it's beyond anything I've ever seen!"

I hold up a hand, trying to slow her torrent of words. "Wait. What do you mean, my signature?"

You should know this. Grimoire's disgust with my question is almost palpable. Have I been teaching you in vain?

"All magic leaves traces, but yours… Yours is so delicate. Like the most beautiful signature." Her hands flutter as she talks, and then she presses them against her face with a little squeal. "I can't believe it. It's you! I've been looking for you."

"Hold on, Eleanor. I'm not the… Crone."

Eleanor shakes her head vigorously, her braids flying around her head. "It must be you! The knowledge you have far exceeds anything I've ever seen."

Vester moves closer to me, voice pitched low and arm out to dissuade the overexcited woman from approaching. She takes a step closer every time he steps back, though, so he eventually stops trying to reach my side. "Luna, we should take her back to camp. She seems suspicious."

"I'm not suspicious!" Eleanor's face goes pale as she waves her hands in the air once again, like a scarecrow with a seizure. "I swear, I'm not a suspicious person! I'm just a witch, trying to find other witches. I'm not strange. Well, I am strange, but I'm not suspicious…"

rambling cuts off with a startled squeak; my bodyguards have silently formed a tight circle, boxing her in.

men surrounding her, her eyes widening with each one. A hiccup escapes her lips as she stares at

she'd tucked away moments

the bag as I keep my voice neutral. She doesn't seem like a threat, but she also messed

to assume she's on my side as a

This?" She pats the worn leather satchel at her hip. "It's my magic journal. I document everything I

she yanks the book out and lurches

enough force to make her stumble. His face remains impassive, showing no remorse for his roughness, as

terrible for her. She's strange, but to react so strongly when

swallow the rest of my protest in silence. Better to make sure it's not dangerous first, even if it feels kind of like bullying a

the book from Eleanor's grasp and trots back to me, head

she reports thoughtfully. No

countless loose papers sticking out from between the pages. The edges are frayed, and coffee stains mark the cover. I flip

says softly. "It's everything I've learned over the past three

vaguely familiar yet distinctly amateur. Nothing like the elegant runes Grimoire has taught me to trace. These are more like a student's attempt to recreate something

curious how familiar it looks,

turn more pages. Eleanor's handwriting varies wildly—sometimes neat and precise, other times a frantic scrawl that's

dissipated too

much magic

last note

contemplative.

doing in Cedarwood?" I ask, looking

spot in one of the local parks with a lot of residual magical energy there, but it was all…" Her fingers wiggle. "Muddy? I couldn't really see it, but I knew it was there. I've been following the traces ever since. Well,

pages, I find hand-drawn maps with locations marked, dates, and times. Detailed notes on energy fluctuations and theories about their origins. It doesn't seem like I'm the only one