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.

Magister Orion rebukes me gently. "This isn't a joke. Your magic is serious

and try

There's no water to flow with, no fire to ignite. It's just...

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Magic

do I

within myself, searching for that elusive spark of

is empty of anything except the rhythmic pulsing of my heartbeat and my slow, deep

body aches from the effort. Sweat beads on my

tremble with exertion.

feeling

concentration. "You're trying too hard. Your magic isn't something to be forced. It's a part of you, as natural as

this strange room has decided are necessary. "I don't understand. How can it be natural when I can't even feel it?" "Because you're looking for it

notiently "Vou're

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Magic Training

separate. It's you. The separation is all in

I can feel it, sense it, and reach for it at

Maybe it really is in my head. Maybe this little ball of energy in

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

smoke with my bare hands. The harder I try, the more it slips away from

me in my

voice in

Nothing else.

heavier with each passing moment, worn down by the constant strain. My head

can't do it," I finally admit, my voice small