Page 12 of Infernal Crown (Cursed Darkness (DarkHallow Academy) #3)

CHAPTER TWELVE

LYSITHEA

I wake in the dark, the air thick with sex and sweat and magic.

The bed is still warm, every muscle loose, my entire body buzzing with the last aftershocks of being fucked to pieces and stitched back together by three monsters who would rip the world apart for me.

It’s not a bad way to wake up. It could be worse. I could be alone.

I flex my fingers and toes. The Soul Scar on my back, the constellation of black ink and bruised skin, doesn’t hurt.

For the first time in ages, it doesn’t feel like someone is shoving a red-hot poker under my shoulder blade.

The magic there isn’t jagged or fractured.

It’s solid. Whole. I inhale, waiting for the usual ache of separation, the longing that pulses whenever one of the guys isn’t nearby. Nothing. Just… relief.

Dathan is next to me on the bed, lying on his side, half asleep. His arm is thrown over my stomach, and his hand is wrapped tight around my wrist like I might disappear if he lets go. Idiot.

I try to sit up, but a hand clamps tighter around my ankle. It’s Verik, sprawled over the end of the bed, half-dressed, and gripping my ankle. Even asleep, he’s a possessive bastard. I prod him with my foot, and he just grunts, refusing to let go.

Evren is nowhere in sight, but I can sense him.

The air is cold, and the shadows at the edge of the room are thicker, slicker.

If I squint, I can see where he passed through the wall—a fine white frost clings to the stone in a vague humanoid shape.

He’s not gone, just prowling the hallways for a bit, probably making sure we’re not about to be murdered in our sleep.

Or maybe he’s getting food, which would be an even bigger act of love for him than murdering for me.

I let myself flop back onto the pillow and close my eyes.

The calm before the shitstorm. We never get more than five minutes of peace before something comes clawing at the door, demanding a sacrifice. That’s fine. I don’t know what to do with peace, anymore anyway. It’s boring.

I roll onto my side and slide out from under Dathan’s arm.

He lets go, but his hand catches my thigh and squeezes, a silent you better not run off.

I ruffle his hair, and he mumbles something about sandwiches before he curls tighter around my pillow.

I sit on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, toes brushing the carpet.

The collar at my throat pulses with the rhythm of my blood, and I touch it, fingers tracing the latticework Blackgrove put there.

I stand, stretching until my vertebrae crack.

I cross over to the window and look out at the grounds.

The nightmare gardens are alive, vines writhing as the moonlight passes overhead.

I can feel the magic in the stone, in the trees, in every inch of this place.

It’s like the entire academy is holding its breath, waiting for the next move.

Behind me, Verik stirs. I hear him sit up and rub his face with both hands, groaning like he’s been resurrected from the grave. “You awake?” he rasps.

“No, I’m sleepwalking,” I say. “Go back to bed.”

He comes up behind me, heat radiating from his skin, and wraps his arms around my waist. “Nice try.” He buries his nose in my hair. “You’re up early.”

I snort. “It’s three in the afternoon, Verik.”

He shrugs. “Time’s not real anymore.” He presses his lips to my shoulder and stands there, silent, holding me like he can keep the world at bay just by not letting go.

“We have to do it soon,” I say. “The expansion thing. The sub-realm.”

“I know.” He squeezes tighter. “We’ll do it. We’ll make it work.”

I nod, but my stomach is a tangle. The plan is madness. We’re going to try to trick a god. If it works, I get a kingdom, a place that’s mine, where I’m not chained to the academy like a dog. If it fails, I get to see how it feels to be erased from existence.

Verik rests his chin on my shoulder. “You ready?”

“I was born ready,” I say, but my voice cracks on the last word.

He laughs, low and rough. “Bullshit.” Then he kisses my cheek and turns me around.

He grabs my hand, and I squeeze back so hard I hear his knuckles creak. I like the sound. I like all of it. For the first time, I want to have someone behind my walls with me.

Evren returns with hot, delicious food, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck. For one brief, impossible moment, everything feels perfect.

I dive into the food, shovelling stew and bread into my mouth, followed by sticky toffee pudding and custard.

The mood grows heavier, and I feel for the Rector’s Keystone under my skin. “I can expand DarkHallow’s boundaries. Make the academy’s territory stretch all the way to the Midnight Spire.”

Evren leans forward, instantly alert. “At what cost?”

“Blood. Authority. And enough magical power to fuel a small war.”

Dathan stirs, silver eyes blinking open. “Did someone say war?”

“Lysithea wants to expand DarkHallow to encompass the Spire,” Verik explains.

“We can go back,” Dathan says, fully awake now. “Complete the Crown, finish this whole bloody mess.”

“What’s the catch?” Verik asks, because he knows me well enough to understand there’s always a catch.

“It will require me to channel the power of the entire academy. Every ley line, every stone. Blackgrove mentioned that Aeliana is contained in the ancestral pathways. Those pathways run through the academy, I think. If I channel DarkHallow’s power, she’ll feel it. She’ll try to interfere.”

“So, we’ll be dealing with a psychotic ancient Nox Siren while you’re vulnerable,” Dathan says flatly.

“Essentially, yes.”

“Well,” Verik says, sitting up and running a hand through his dark hair. “When you put it like that, it sounds perfectly reasonable.”

Despite everything, I smile. “I love your confidence in my ability to handle multiple catastrophes simultaneously.”

“It’s not confidence,” Evren says quietly. “It’s faith. We have faith in you.”

The words hit deeper than they should. Faith. Not in my power or my destiny, but in me. In my ability to choose the right path and see it through.

“Right then,” I say. “Let’s expand some boundaries.”

We dress quickly, the atmosphere charged with purpose. I explain the ritual as we move through DarkHallow’s hallways, the academy responding to my presence by shortening distances and opening hidden passages.

“The Keystone needs three things,” I say as we climb the spiral staircase to the Ossuary Tower. “Blackgrove’s authority, which he already gave. My declaration as Sovereign, which I made in the garden. And a massive infusion of magical power to fuel the expansion.”

“How massive?” Verik asks, his architectural mind already working through the logistics.

“Everything magical that makes up DarkHallow.” I pause on the stairs, looking back at them. “And you three.”

We reach the top of the tower, the same circular chamber where this all started only days ago. The scorch marks from Verik’s previous doorway are still burned into the ancient stone. I walk to the centre of the room and kneel, pressing my palm flat against the floor.

The response is immediate. DarkHallow recognises its Sovereign, every stone singing with acknowledgement. I feel the academy’s vast network spread out beneath me like a living map. Ley lines pulse with power, connecting every building, every room, every secret passage into one unified organism.

“I can feel all of it,” I whisper, awed despite myself. “Every flicker of magic.”

The guys form a protective circle around me, their hands coming to rest on my shoulders. The Soul Scar flares to life, creating a bridge between us that lets me access their power without harming them.

“DarkHallow Academy,” I say, my voice carrying through stone and shadow. “Heed your Sovereign. Lend me your strength.”

The response is a tsunami of magical power that nearly knocks me flat. All the magic within these walls rushes in.

The Keystone blazes under my skin, starlight bleeding between my pores. I can see the academy’s boundaries as lines of silver fire, carefully maintained barriers that have stood for centuries. Now I need to stretch them, extend them across miles of hostile territory to encompass the Midnight Spire.

“Here we go,” I murmur, and push.

The expansion ripples outward like a stone dropped in still water. Silver fire races across the landscape, claiming ground inch by inch. The effort is excruciating. Every foot of territory costs me, the magical strain building in my bones.

Then I feel her.

Aeliana’s presence crashes against the expansion like a tidal wave of pure malice. She’s trapped in the ancestral pathways, but her power is immense, ancient, and utterly focused on stopping me.

Her interference is like trying to expand the boundaries while someone tears at them from the inside. The silver fire wavers, threatening to snap back and leave us trapped forever.

“Fuck off,” I growl through gritted teeth, pouring more power into the expansion.

The guys’ hands tighten on my shoulders, their power flowing through the Soul Scar to bolster mine.

Dathan’s nightmare magic weaves through the expansion, adding shadow and fear to the claiming.

Verik’s hellfire provides the raw force needed to burn through Aeliana’s interference.

Evren’s death magic creates spaces of absolute cold that freeze her attacks in place.

The expansion surges forward, fuelled by the combined might of DarkHallow and my bonded men.

Silver fire races across the twisted landscape of the Midnight Spire, claiming the ancient structure and everything around it.

I feel the moment the Forge itself falls within our boundaries, the Sovereign’s authority extends to encompass the heart of divine creation.

Aeliana’s scream of rage echoes through the pathways, but it’s the sound of defeat. The expansion is complete, DarkHallow’s territory now stretching across miles of previously neutral ground.

The cost hits me immediately.

Every muscle in my body seizes as magical exhaustion crashes over me like a wave. I pitch forward, consciousness flickering as the strain of channelling so much power catches up with me.

Strong arms catch me before I hit the stone floor. Dathan’s face swims into focus above me, his silver eyes tight with concern. “Thea? Stay with us.”

“Did it work?” I manage to whisper.

“It worked,” Evren confirms, his voice rough with exhaustion. They’re all drained from lending me their power, but they’re whole. Alive. “The Spire is part of DarkHallow now.”

“Good,” I breathe, letting my eyes drift closed. “Then we can go back.”

Verik scoops me up effortlessly, cradling me against his chest. “Rest first. The Forge has waited this long. It can wait a bit longer.”

I want to argue, to insist we push forward while we can, but my body has other ideas. The magical exhaustion is complete, leaving me feeling like I’ve been turned inside out and wrung dry. I let myself relax into Verik’s warmth, trusting them to keep me safe while I recover.

“The hard part’s done,” I murmur as he carries me to a corner of the room and sits with me on his lap. “Now we just have to forge a Crown, complete a god, create a realm and blow it all to hell and back.”

The expansion succeeded, but it’s also brought us closer to our ancient enemy. The final confrontation is coming whether we’re ready or not.

At least now we have a fighting chance.