A Thousand Year Obsession ✔

34. Don't Act Rashly

34. Don't Act Rashly

The trees created a canopy of leaves above us, encaging us within the clutches of darkness and blocking the moon from our sights. Vines hung down from the rooftop, swaying softly in the gentle breeze. Moss covered the ground and a light coat of moisture settled over the grass. The air brushed past us with a chilly touch, caressing our forms with its bitter bite.

Sally and I had lain camp only a few hours before after she'd began complaining about the state of her feet. I'd had no choice but to succumb to her wishes. She lay beside me now, snoring quietly with her head resting on a clump of moss. I'd have been doing the same, but I couldn't fall asleep. Exhaustion didn't plague me like it did her. Instead I felt a renewing vigor with each step I took. Maybe it was merely the thought that I was traveling to a place I could finally call home that kept strength lingering within reach and locked perseverance in the recesses of my mind. Whatever it was, though, stole slumber away from me and made me long to continue the journey again.

I closed my eyes again and made another effort to sleep, but my body spun with a tingling energy that prevented me from relaxing. Finally, after several more failed attempts, I sat up against one of the trees and pulled out the little magic book I kept tucked in the small pocket of my cloak. I squinted through the darkness to make out the text, but the little slivers of moonlight that cast down around me weren't enough to make out the small text. I nearly gave up altogether and settled down to a sleepless night, but before I did, it struck me how stupidly ignorant that would be. I was filled to overflowing with magic, trying to read a book about magic, while in the process of escaping an immensely powerful dark magical being. I didn't need to rely on natural light; I could make some on my own.

I remembered reading about Freeman's Magic during my frantic search for an unbinding spell. It's the easiest branch of magic, the type that gives you whatever you concentrate on or need most in that particular instant. It's literally instinct, magical instinct that can easily be focused and harnessed by use of a Revelance Crystal. All I'd have to do was relax, focus on what I wanted and allow the magic to do its thing.

I inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, closing my eyes and placing my hands palm-upward my lap. My shoulders settled down in on themselves and I shifted slightly to a better position. I imagined exactly what I desired, lengthened my breathing and controlled my thoughts. I sat there for a long moment, fully and utterly relaxed, before I felt it: the sputtering electricity bubbling up from within my body. It spun through my veins, flooding my nerves with a tingling exuberance. It whirled through the pits of my stomach and curled around my heart with its cheery excitement. I held it within the clasp of my body for a minute more, simply relishing in the zealous feeling of magic overwhelming my body. Then I released it, allowing it to escape outward through my palms, exploding upwards into the air where it twirled in on itself, coiling tightly into a small, luminescent orb.

My eyes opened and I grinned. I grabbed the book again and reopened it after my eyes adjusted to the dim glow exuding from the orb. Before I'd only had time for brief, forgettable glances, but now that I'd truly escaped Derek, I was able to actually comprehend and commit to memory what I was reading. I started reading through the section on spells, but by the time I finally began to grow drowsy, I was halfway through the section on rituals. I read a little longer before I closed the book and tucked it away. I flicked a hand towards the orb and it disintegrated. I laid down on my back, staring silently up at the rooftop canopy.

I couldn't see the stars through the tangle of leaves and a soft tremor of unease swept through me at the thought. I suppose it was just the thought of being disconnected from the rest of the universe, of finding myself locked outside the constant flood of beautiful glowing stars. And the knowledge that something that appeared so small and harmless was actually a huge, raging, ball of gas and flames struck me with a sweet sense of comfort. I felt as if I belonged among them, as if they were drawing me in, luring me with a gentle sense of belonging, calming me with their watchful gaze. They'd always managed to cure the terrible feeling of vulnerability that often plagued me at times, maybe with just the thought that they knew, cared and loved, as if no matter what happened, something was out there that would accept me always, forever, something that watched out for me, waiting, as if for me to run to them with open arms.