Grace of a Wolf

Chapter 155: Grace: Arcana (II)

"It’s... moving," I say, surprised. "I can feel it traveling up my arms."

"Good," Lyre says. "That’s the arcana being absorbed. Can you see its path?"

I concentrate harder, focusing on the sensation rather than trying to visualize anything. And then—

"Oh!"

There it is. Not golden threads this time, but something more like... streams? Veins filled with liquid light pulsing up from my palms, branching through my arms. They’re not as distinct as what I saw with Caine, more like impressions of light beneath my skin.

Wait. I can see my arms. They’re definitely my arms; I know it down to the marrow in my bones. But it doesn’t look like my arms. If anything, it’s similar to the faint outline of light when I’d "seen" our hands last night...

"I can see it," I breathe. "Not like before. It’s faint. But it looks like little rivers under my skin."

"That’s because you’re absorbing it directly. What you saw with Caine was arcana in transit—energy moving between bodies, through structured channels. This is arcana becoming part of you."

If only I could really understand what Lyre’s saying. Again, it isn’t as if the words are foreign, but the concept seems beyond what I can truly wrap my mind around.

The light spreads further, tiny rivulets reaching my elbows, my biceps, creeping toward my shoulders. It feels... good. Like a shot of caffeine without the jitters, or the satisfaction of stretching after sitting too long. My body hums with it. noveldrama

"This feels different than with Caine," I say, my eyes still closed, tracking the progress of the light.

"I imagine it would." There’s a smirk in her voice. "Arcana expression varies widely based on the source and the... circumstances."

My cheeks heat again. "That’s not what I meant."

"Of course not. But differences are important to note. The arcana you’re absorbing is what I’ve already refined. What flows between you and Caine is wild, coming straight from your source. Both are valid expressions of power, but they’re vastly different in application."

The light has reached my chest now. I can feel it spreading outward from my sternum, little branches of warmth extending between my ribs. It feels like my entire torso is filling with gentle sunlight.

"It’s everywhere," I murmur. "Is it supposed to spread this much?"

There’s a pause that lasts a beat too long.

"Lyre?"

"Open your eyes, Grace."

I do, blinking against the sudden influx of normal light. The ball above my palms has shrunk to half its original size, but what catches my attention is Lyre’s expression—eyebrows raised, lips slightly parted in surprise.

"What’s wrong?" I ask, suddenly anxious.

"Nothing’s wrong," she says, but her tone suggests something unexpected is happening. "You’re absorbing it much faster than you should be able to. Most beginners take hours to process that much arcana. You’ve taken half of it in minutes."

I look down at the diminished ball of light. "Is that... bad?"

"Not bad. Just unusual." She tilts her head, studying me with those unnerving slitted eyes. "You’re hungry for it."

The way she says it makes me uncomfortable, like I’ve been caught doing something shameful. "I’m just doing what you said."

"I know. It’s not a criticism. If anything, it’s good for you. Of course, had I known earlier... well, never mind." She gestures toward my hands. "Continue. I want to see how quickly you can take in the rest."

I focus on the remaining light, and this time, instead of just observing, I find myself wanting to pull it in faster. The warmth is addictive, the feeling of strength and lightness it brings intoxicating.

The ball shrinks rapidly now, streams of light flowing into my palms like water down a drain. Ten seconds, and it’s gone completely.

"Impressive," Lyre says.

The energy thrums through me, making me feel jittery, powerful. I flex my fingers, half expecting sparks to fly from them.

"Now what? Do I... do something with it?"

"No. It will disperse on its own."

Then she leans forward and rubs my head, like I’m a cat. "Good girl."

A warm, pleasant sensation washes through me, like liquid sunshine spreading from the crown of my head down through my shoulders. It’s comforting and gentle, almost maternal.

I jerk back, my exasperation cutting through the pleasant feeling. "Could you not treat me like a pet?"

Lyre’s lips quirk into a small smile, her slitted eyes studying me with amusement. "Did you feel it?" She tilts her head. "No?"

I blink at her, confused. "Feel what?"

"That." She flicks her fingers vaguely in my direction, mild exasperation coloring her voice. "I just transferred a smidgen of arcana into you with my touch."

My mouth falls open. "That was—I thought that was just... a feeling. Like, emotion." Kind of like a rush of affection toward an older sister.

"No. That was arcana." Her smile edges towards predatory now. "This is what an Anchor can do to others. A single touch, and you can have someone on their knees, desperate for another."

Every time I’d brushed against Caine—every accidental touch, every deliberate contact—had I been affecting him? The way he looks at me sometimes, like he’s drowning and I’m air... is that because of what I am?

Lyre straightens suddenly and points a finger at me with a stern frown. "Stop overthinking. Whatever you’re thinking now, you’re probably wrong."

I bite at my lip and try to shove the intrusive thoughts away. "Okay."

Of course it’s wrong. It has to be wrong. She’s already explained that we are fated mates, so being an Anchor should have nothing to do with it.

I suck in a deep breath. Yeah. No overthinking.

"Are you..." I clear my throat, a little embarrassed when my voice croaks. "Sorry. Are you also an Anchor?"

She snorts. "No. An Echo Witch is not an Anchor."

"What’s an Echo Witch, then?"

"I’ll explain another day, maybe. When Plausibility allows it. But more importantly..." She looks at her phone with a sigh as it buzzes on the table. "We have work to do."