Page 96 of Bitten Shifter

Her excitement is infectious. For the first time since arriving in this sector, I feel a spark of warmth and a quiet reassurance that somehow, everything might be okay.

Chapter Forty-One

After we have eaten,Mary takes me to her study, a cosy room where floor-to-ceiling bookshelves bulge with volumes that hum with latent magic. A soft, bright rug covers the floor, lending the space an inviting warmth.

We sit at her desk, which is buried under a chaotic sprawl of paperwork and trinkets. With practised ease, Mary shuffles the clutter aside, carving out a clear workspace.

“That little sensory band on your wrist is dreadful,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Whoever made that deserves a good slap on the chops. May I?” She gestures towards the band, her expression brimming with morbid curiosity.

I hesitate. I’d noticed how her gaze lingered on the band throughout lunch.

Before I can reply, she mumbles, “What am I thinking? You will need some extra help.”

She picks up a wand from the desk and gives it an elegant flick. Words, lyrical and fluid, spill from her lips in a Latin chant, and the room is suddenly enveloped in a shimmering bubble of silence. Everything takes on a soothing blue tint, softening the light’s harsh edges.

“There—that boundary spell should hold while I poke around with this thing,” she says, wiggling her fingers with a mischievous grin.

Reluctantly, I slip the band off my wrist and place it in her palm. I’m relieved to find the boundary spell does its job. Everything is fine.

Mary closes her eyes, murmuring under her breath as her fingers glide over the band. “Tell me, what do you feel when you use this?”

I think for a moment. “It tingles a bit, and then everything quiets down. My senses retreat—sound, smell, touch, all of it.”

She hums in acknowledgement. “That’s your shifter side. Now, what does the magical side say? Push away the shifter magic for a moment and focus on the technomancer side.”

I blink at her, baffled.

“What does your shifter magic feel like?” she prompts gently.

“It’s wild,” I reply slowly, “raw, emotional—like a storm rolling through me.”

“And your technomancer magic?”

“It’s… a kind of cool, calm blackness.”

“What did it feel like when you first noticed this magic?”

“Pure chaos,” I admit, memories of my earlier struggles drifting to the surface.

Her lips curl into a triumphant smile. “Exactly. If your technomancer magic was once chaotic and you managed to mould it into calm blackness, why can’t you do the same with your shifter magic? You are a sigma, Lark—control is your gift. That wildness does not have to define you; it’s still part of you, but you can decide how it flows. Imagine it not as a raging storm but as a smooth, glassy surface, or a gently lapping stream.”

Her words resonate, and I nod.

“Good. Now, try this: take that wild shifter energy, and instead of letting it rule, box it up. Tame it as you did with yourtechnomancer magic. Then, with the chaos out of the way, use your magical senses and tell me what you feel about this band.”

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes to focus inward. I tackle the storm inside me, approaching it with the same logic I used when I first learned to stop blowing up gadgets. Slowly, I visualise the wildness as a puddle of muddy water on the side of a road. The image makes me smile—why a pothole, of all things?—but it works. The turbulence settles, and I gently push it to the side, boxing it away.

The difference is immediate. My mind feels clearer, lighter, as though a dull ache I hadn’t noticed has suddenly gone. For the first time, I feel balanced.

I open my eyes and smile. “It worked.”

Mary beams. “I knew it would. Look at you, my dear—you are stronger than you think. Right, now tell me about this band.” She places it back in my hand, her expression twisting in mild disgust.

“Oh,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “That’s… bad.”

“Yes, isn’t it just,” Mary agrees wryly.

“The band isbitey. It’s like someone stuffed mismatched magic into it. They have tried to fix scent, sight, sound—everything—in one messy bundle. Then they slapped a tracking spell on top, but instead of smoothing it out, they knotted it all together. It’s like someone tipped out a bag of knitting yarn, mixed it up, and tied impossible knots. It’s horrible.”

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