Tangled in Magic

I AM A PART OF YOU

Aren staggered. His eyes, which had been locked on Ozra, narrowed sharply. Both hands clutched his chest tightly. His body trembled.

“Ah—!” he groaned softly, but the pain was unmistakable.

Ozra gasped and instinctively rushed forward, catching the man before he could collapse completely.

“Aren?” Her voice rose an octave, laced with worry. “What’s happening to you?”

Aren’s body was burning and heavy, his breath coming in rapid bursts like someone who had just run for miles.

His face was flushed, brows furrowed in agony. The magical energy Ozra had sensed earlier—her own energy—was surging again.

This time, it was erratic. Like it was rebelling. Like it was rejecting its vessel.

“Is this the reaction?” Ozra whispered. Her eyes sharpened, trying to read the ripples of energy inside Aren’s body. But her sight alone wasn’t enough.

She bit her lip, hesitated for a moment, then pulled the man into a firm embrace. His feverish chest rested against her shoulder,

Aren’s head was buried in her hold.

Ozra closed her eyes. Her arms wrapped around his back, pulling him closer.

She reached out with her sensitivity, trying to grasp what was happening. Letting herself sink into the current of energy.

In the silence, she heard Aren’s heartbeat—fast and erratic.

And behind each beat, Ozra recognized a rhythm that didn’t belong to Aren—but to her.

A part of her that now lived inside someone else.

And slowly… the energy calmed.

The wild surge in Aren’s chest began to settle, like waves that finally stopped crashing against the shore.

The faint glow in Ozra’s eyes faded.

Aren’s body relaxed, and his breathing returned to normal.

Ozra opened her eyes slowly, gazing at the man still resting in her arms.

Then she pulled back, giving him space but not stepping too far.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, still watching his face, now filled with confusion.

Aren nodded, his breathing still uneven.

He looked at Ozra. The purple and gold hues that had flashed in his eyes were gone—everything was normal again. He didn’t know what to say.

Then the words finally came.

“…You know why my chest hurts, don’t you?”

Ozra froze. Aren’s gaze wasn’t angry or afraid—just curious. Laced with uncertainty and a strange openness.

Aren added, “This afternoon, you kept staring at my chest. You touched it too. I’m not stupid.”

Ozra was silent. She looked away, then stood up and took a step back, her eyes now fixed on Aren’s chest.

“Hm. I know,” she replied shortly, but her voice was calm and firm. “You’ve received something that wasn’t meant to be yours. And your body… seems to be rejecting it, or maybe it’s just not ready to accept it fully.”

Aren said nothing. The night grew deeper, the sky now blanketed in stars.

Their shadows stretched over the grass, crossing under the moonlight.

“So…” Aren finally spoke, “Is this some kind of curse? Or are you saying I’ve been possessed?”

Ozra snorted. “Not a curse or possession. But something very close to that.”

Aren lifted his gaze. His eyes were serious, yet gentle. “You’re… that witch, aren’t you?”

Ozra tensed. “Witch?”

“The witch I told Master Sio about today,” Aren continued slowly. “Ozra. The one who vanished five hundred years ago. People say she died, or drowned, or turned to stone.” He looked at her directly. “And what I’m seeing now… fits the legend.”

Silence. The wind stopped for a moment. Ozra didn’t answer right away. Her eyes only watched the twinkling stars above them.

“I suspected you were hiding something. You never asked me anything about what happened three days ago, not even who I was,” Ozra said at last.

Aren gave a faint smile. “Because the first time I saw you in that underground cell, I recognized your face. The same face as the statue on the altar that day. But I wasn’t afraid. And after all this… I just want the truth.”

Ozra lowered her gaze. Her breath was long.

“Yes. I… am Ozra.” Her voice sounded like a burden finally lifted. “The traitorous witch was sealed and turned to stone. I don’t know why I came back to life—or why my powers ended up in your body.”

Aren stared at her, letting the woman’s words echo in his mind.

‘…my powers ended up in your body…’

Aren unconsciously stepped back at half a pace. His eyes widened.

“Wait! So what’s making my chest hurt and feel weird—is your magic?!”

Ozra nodded slightly. “A part of it, yes. Not all of it, but enough for your body to resist it.”

Aren still hadn’t calmed his breathing. His eyes stood fixed on Ozra, who now stood a few steps away.

They fell into silence, with only the night breeze and whispering leaves between them.

“How could your power end up in my body?” Aren asked, his voice low but clear.

Ozra closed her eyes briefly, then took a slow step forward.

Her face looked calm, but a storm brewed behind her eyes.

“It seems the universe wanted to save you. To keep your heart beating when you should have died. So… Aren, you owe me a great debt.”

Aren blinked.

“My power saved your life,” Ozra continued, eyes piercing. “So from now on, you must stay alive—until I find a way to get it

back.”

Aren held his chest again. Not from pain this time—but from a burst of confusion.

“Then does that mean I’m a witch now?” His voice rose. “That’s… that’s impossible. I’m a witch hunter! And now I’m a witch?! Should I turn myself in to Master Sio?!”

Ozra tilted her head, watching him like she was just now realizing how ridiculous Aren looked when panicking.

“You don’t become a witch just because there’s magic in your body. Just like you don’t turn into a pig just because you ate pork.”

Aren opened his mouth, then shut it again. “…But if that power reacts inside me… if I can use it someday… doesn’t that mean I—”

“Possibly,” Ozra interrupted quickly. “But it’s not something you can simply choose or reject. If my energy has truly taken root in you, then like it or not, you’ll become part of a magical world you never wanted to touch.”

“Then… why don’t you just take your power back?”

Ozra chuckled. “If I could, I would’ve done it already. But for some reason… the power refuses to return to me. It’s like your body has been accepted as its new home.”

Aren looked down at the ground. The moonlight lit his serious expression.

Suddenly, the world he knew felt smaller and more fragile.

He just wanted to be a simple warrior. And now? His body housed the power of a legendary witch said to have died five centuries ago.

He looked up, his eyes meeting Ozra’s, filled with mixed emotions. “So… will I become like you?”

Ozra studied his face in silence. Then, in a much softer voice, she answered, “I don’t know. But even if you do, that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. Not all witches are monsters, Aren. Sometimes, power finds those who never asked for it… because they’re the ones who deserve it most.”

Aren didn’t reply. His gaze drifted to the peaceful village in the distance.

Tonight, it wasn’t just his body that felt heavy—but his future too.

“So what do we do now?” Aren asked quietly.

Ozra shrugged. “I’ll keep watching over my power. And you… don’t die. That’s all.”

Aren chuckled softly. “You say that like you’re asking me to survive death every day.”

Ozra added gently, “If you’re afraid, I can teach you. Slowly, bit by bit. I don’t know how far you’ll go… but I won’t let my power destroy you.”

The wind returned, brushing through both their hair.

The night felt more peaceful. Between two different beings—a once-sealed ancient witch and an ordinary man—a bond was slowly forming.

Not because of power, but because of a secret they now share.