Tangled

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236 Ava: Magic Training (II)

236 Ava: Magic Training (II)

Magister Orion's version of training is reminiscent of Jericho's somehow, though he doesn't insult me or force me to run massive amounts of laps.

It's more like this inexorable insistence that he believes in my ability that forces me to try, and try again, and again, until sweat is pouring down my face and back. It's worse than physical training because it's an agony that breaks my entire body down from within, but it's better because I can breathe without feeling like my lungs are burning out.

Magister Orion's voice washes over me, a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. "Close your eyes, Ava Grey Block out the world around you. Let your magic flow through your veins."

His instructions are the same as before. Simple. Repetitive. Calm.

I take a deep breath, trying to follow his instructions. My eyes flutter shut, and I attempt to focus inward. Earlier, he told me to stop screwing my eyes shut, but to only rest them like butterfly's wings.

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236 Ava: Magic Training (II)

He waxes a little poetic, I've noticed.

"Allow it into your heart, your circulation," he continues. "Feel it becoming a part of you."

Nothing happens in my veins. No warmth, no fizzle, no pop. The magic within me is warm and enveloped in its own little area, probably laughing at me because I can't figure this out. "You've blocked it off, treated it like an invasive

species," Magister Orion says. "But it's a part of you, Ava Grey. It always has been. You need to accept it into every fiber of your being. Let it flow through you, from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair."

The image of magic coursing through my hair makes me snicker. I can't help but picture it: every blonde strand glowing like fiber optic cables, leaving me as bright as a Christmas tree.

rebukes me gently. "This isn't

chastened, and try to concentrate

water to flow with, no

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Magic

do I

elusive spark of magic. It's there, of course. But it doesn't

except the rhythmic pulsing of my heartbeat and my slow,

goes by, ticking away minute by minute. My body aches from the effort. Sweat beads on my forehead and trickles down my back. My

tremble with exertion.

having no success, my body is feeling the strain. That must mean something's happening,

cuts through my concentration. "You're trying too hard. Your magic isn't

this strange room has decided are necessary. "I don't understand. How can it be natural when I can't even

notiently "Vou're searching for

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<

Magic

from yourself, but your magic isn't separate. It's you. The separation is all in

it, sense it, and reach for

Maybe this little ball

trying to shift my perspective. Instead of reaching for something outside myself, I attempt

hands. The harder I try, the more it slips away from me. Saying it is all well and good,

just me in my

voice in the

Nothing else.

feels heavier with each passing moment, worn down by the

it," I finally admit, my voice