Page 10

CADE

T he magical explosions started three days after the porch incident and showed no signs of stopping.

Lyra had woken that morning to find every light bulb in the inn had blown overnight, leaving behind a constellation of shattered glass and the acrid smell of burned filaments.

Her morning coffee had literally boiled over before she'd even turned on the stove, and when she'd tried to take a shower, the water had come out scalding hot despite the temperature setting being firmly in the lukewarm range.

By noon, she'd accidentally shorted out Junie's espresso machine, caused every piece of electronic equipment in Moondrip Market to start playing different radio stations simultaneously, and somehow managed to make the fountain in the town square begin spouting water in perfect spirals that defied several laws of physics.

"This is getting ridiculous," Lyra muttered, standing in the middle of her kitchen and staring at the pile of her belongings that had apparently rearranged themselves while she was out.

Her books were stacked in perfect height order, her clothes had sorted themselves by color, and every piece of jewelry she owned was now arranged in concentric circles on the counter like some kind of magical mandala.

Her phone buzzed with yet another apologetic text to a local business owner whose electronics had been affected by her proximity. This one was from the hardware store, where apparently every power tool had turned on at once when she'd walked past the building.

"Right," Lyra said to the quiet room. "Time to admit defeat and ask for help."

She found Cade at his workshop, a converted barn on the outskirts of town that smelled of sawdust and motor oil and something indefinably wild. He was bent over a custom cabinet, his attention focused on precise measurements, and he didn't look up when she knocked on the open door.

"If you're here to apologize for whatever electronic chaos happened downtown today, don't bother," he said without looking up. "I already heard about the hardware store incident."

"Actually, I'm here to ask for help," Lyra said, leaning against the doorframe. "My magic is getting worse, not better. I need someone to teach me control before I accidentally level a city block."

Cade set down his measuring tape and finally looked at her. "I'm not a witch, Lyra. I can't teach you spellwork."

"I don't need spellwork. I need grounding techniques. Wolf magic is all about control and instinct, right? Maybe some of those principles transfer."

"Wolf magic isn't something you learn," Cade said carefully. "It's something you are."

"Then teach me to be something other than a walking magical disaster," Lyra said, frustration creeping into her voice. "Please. I'm running out of options, and the proximity protocol thing isn't helping. If anything, being around you makes my magic more volatile."

He didn’t speak right away, studying her face with the kind of focus that made her think he was reading her thoughts. "Why me? Nico's got more experience with teaching magic to non-fae."

"Because you're the one my magic responds to," Lyra said honestly. "And because I trust you not to let me accidentally hurt someone."

Something shifted in Cade's expression at her words. "Alright. But we do this my way, following my rules."

"What rules?"

"No arguing with my methods. No shortcuts. And no touching anything I tell you not to touch."

Lyra rolled her eyes. "I'm not a child, Cade."

"No, you're a chaos witch with unstable power levels and a tendency to act first and think later," Cade said bluntly. "Which makes you significantly more dangerous than a child."

"Gee, thanks for the confidence boost."

"I'm not here to boost your confidence. I'm here to keep you from accidentally killing yourself." Cade wiped his hands on a rag and moved toward the workshop door. "Meet me at the forest preserve entrance at sunset. And wear something you don't mind getting dirty."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere your magic can't short-circuit anything important," Cade said. "And somewhere I can shift if things go wrong."

Six hours later, Lyra found herself following Cade along a trail that seemed to exist more as a suggestion than an actual path.

The forest around Mistwhisper Falls was unlike any woodland she'd experienced—older, wilder, with an awareness that made her feel like she was being observed by invisible eyes.

Ancient oaks and towering pines created a canopy so thick that twilight had arrived early, and the air hummed with the kind of ambient magic that made her chaos energy stir restlessly.

"How much further?" she asked, stepping carefully over a fallen log that appeared to be growing luminescent mushrooms.

"Not far," Cade said, moving through the forest with the easy confidence of someone who knew every tree personally. "There's a clearing ahead that's been used for magical training for about as long as the town's existed."

"Used by who?"

"Pack members learning to control their shifts. Witches practicing new spells. Anyone who needs space to work with volatile magic without worrying about collateral damage."

They walked in comfortable silence for another ten minutes before the trees opened into a circular clearing that took Lyra's breath away.

The space was roughly thirty feet across, ringed by ancient stones that seemed to radiate their own inner light.

Moss covered most surfaces in a carpet so lush it looked like green velvet, and in the middle of the clearing, a natural spring bubbled up from the earth to form a small pool that reflected the early stars.

"Holy sage," Lyra breathed. "This place is incredible."

"It's one of the original sacred sites," Cade explained, settling onto one of the moss-covered stones. "The founders used it for their most important workings. The earth here is saturated with centuries of careful magic."

Lyra moved right in the heart of the clearing, immediately feeling the difference in the ambient energy. Her chaos magic, which had been crackling restlessly all day, suddenly settled into something calmer and more focused. "I can feel it. The magic here—it's different."

"Grounded," Cade said. "Stable. That's what we're going to teach your magic to be."

"How?"

"Sit," Cade instructed, patting the stone beside him. "First lesson is learning to feel the difference between chaotic energy and controlled energy."

Lyra settled onto the stone, acutely aware of Cade's proximity and the way her magic hummed in response to his presence. "Okay. Now what?"

"Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Tell me what you feel."

Lyra obeyed, letting her awareness expand beyond the immediate. "The stones are warm. There's water moving underground, lots of it. The trees are... old. Really old. And there's something else, something that feels like..."

"Like what?"

"Like home," Lyra said, opening her eyes in surprise. "Like this place recognizes me."

"It does," Cade said simply. "Your grandmother brought you here when you were little. Before the falling out with your family."

"I don't remember that. How did you know that?"

"I heard from the others. You were maybe four years old.

But magic remembers, even when the conscious mind doesn't." Cade shifted to face her more directly.

"That sense of recognition, of belonging—that's what grounded magic feels like.

Chaos magic isn't about imposing your will on the world.

It's about finding your place in the natural flow of energy and working with it instead of against it. "

Lyra considered this, trying to reconcile the concept with her lifetime of magical mishaps. "But chaos magic is supposed to be unpredictable. It's right there in the name."

"Chaos doesn't mean random," Cade corrected. "It means responsive to change, adaptive, flexible. Chaos magic works best when it's allowed to flow naturally instead of being forced into rigid patterns."

"So I've been doing it wrong this whole time?"

"You've been trying to control something that doesn't want to be controlled. There's a difference." Cade stood and moved to the center of the clearing, where moonlight was beginning to filter through the canopy above. "Come here. I want to try something."

Lyra joined him beside the small spring, where the reflected moonlight created patterns that seemed to shift and dance on the water's surface. "What now?"

"Put your hands on the ground. Palm down, fingers spread. Feel the earth beneath you."

Lyra knelt and pressed her palms to the moss-covered earth, immediately feeling a pulse of energy that seemed to rise from deep underground. "Okay. I can feel... something. Like a heartbeat, but slower."

"That's the earth's natural rhythm," Cade explained, settling beside her in a similar position. "Every living thing has a frequency, a natural pattern of energy. Chaos magic works best when it synchronizes with those natural rhythms instead of fighting them."

"How do I synchronize?"

"Stop trying so hard," Cade said, his tone shifted into a patient tone of someone used to teaching stubborn students. "Your magic wants to flow. Let it."

Lyra tried to relax, letting her awareness sink deeper into the connection with the earth. Almost immediately, her magic began to settle, drawn by the stable energy of the sacred site. For the first time in days, she felt truly calm.

"Better?" Cade asked.

"Much better. It's like... like my magic was holding its breath, and now it can finally exhale."

"Good. Now try channeling that energy upward, but slowly. Don't force it—just guide it."

Lyra focused on the sensation of grounded energy, carefully encouraging her magic to flow upward through her body. Light began to gather around her hands, soft and golden, completely unlike the violent sparks she'd been producing for days.

"Holy sage," she breathed. "It's working."

"Keep going. Let the light grow, but maintain the connection to the earth."