Page 16 of Soul Bound (Cursed Descent (MistHallow Academy) #2)

16

MATILDA

The pre-dusk air bites at my exposed skin as I trudge toward the forest boundary. Chaos is curled around my neck like a living scarf, his tiny body radiating warmth against the winter chill. The grounds are quiet except for the crunch of my boots in the fresh snow.

Morrigan materialises from the shadows of the trees. She’s dressed in form-fitting black leather, practical but somehow still ethereally beautiful.

“Right on time,” she says with an approving nod. “Are you ready for another go?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I reply, trying to hide my nervousness.

She circles me slowly, her green eyes glowing slightly in the diminishing light. “Your power isn’t something to be controlled or contained. It’s something to be guided, like redirecting a river rather than trying to dam it.”

“That’s what Professor Whiston said, but every time I try, it backfires.”

Morrigan’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “That’s because you’re thinking like a witch. You need to think like a Druid.” She stops in front of me and holds out her hand. “May I?”

I nod, though I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to. She places her palm against my sternum, and immediately, I feel a surge of ancient power course through me. It rushes through my veins, ancient and wild, making my skin glow with a faint rainbow sheen. I gasp as memories that aren’t mine flood my mind of forests untouched by time and rituals performed under starlit skies.

“What is that?” I whisper, my voice shaking.

“That,” Morrigan says, “is your ancestral memory. The knowledge of the Druids lives in your blood, Matilda. You just need to learn how to access it.”

The power builds, making the air around us crackle with energy. Chaos chirps nervously and leaps from my shoulders, finding a safe perch in a nearby tree.

“It’s too much,” I say through gritted teeth. The rainbow light intensifies, and I feel myself losing control. “I can’t?—”

“Yes, you can,” Morrigan says firmly, maintaining her grip. “Don’t fight it. Let it flow through you. Direct it into the earth.”

I try to focus, to channel the overwhelming surge of power downward, but something feels wrong. The energy isn’t just flowing anymore. It’s seeking something. As it connects with the earth, I’m hit with a vision so intense it brings me to my knees.

I see the altar, the blood ritual, but this time, I see what we couldn’t before. The energy we created wasn’t just absorbed by Night. It went deeper into the earth itself, awakening something ancient and hungry.

“Oh gods,” I gasp as the vision continues. I see the curse fragmenting, the magick straining against its bonds.

Morrigan breaks the connection, and I slump forward, shaking.

“What was that?” I manage to ask through chattering teeth.

Her expression is grim. “That was confirmation of what I feared. The ritual you performed wasn’t just about binding you to your partners. It was the first step in awakening the cursed magick.”

“But why? How?”

“Because you carry the purest form of it in your blood. You are the only one who can break the Praxian force out of its curse. Or contain it once more.”

I feel the blood drain from my face as the implications hit me. “And what happens if I can’t contain it?”

Morrigan’s eyes meet mine. “Chaos. Pure, primordial chaos. The world as we know it would cease to exist.”

“How do we stop it?”

She helps me to my feet, her expression troubled. “That’s what these sessions are really about. We need to strengthen your connection to the magick while keeping it contained. It’s a delicate balance.”

“And if we fail?”

“Then everything changes. The question is, are you ready to bear that responsibility?”

I look at my hands, still glowing faintly with rainbow light touched with darkness, and think about everything that’s happened since I arrived at MistHallow. “Do I have a choice?”

Morrigan’s smile is both sad and fierce. “There’s always a choice, Matilda. But sometimes the right choice is the hardest one to make.”

We stare at each other for a moment before Morrigan breaks it.

“Let’s try something else,” she says, stepping back. “Now that you’ve felt the connection to your ancestral memories, let’s see if we can access them in a controlled way.”

I nod warily, still shaken from the vision. “How?”

“Close your eyes. Picture a door in your mind. Behind it are all the memories and knowledge of your Druid ancestors.”

I do as she says, visualising a heavy wooden door covered in ancient runes. As I focus on it, the runes glow with that familiar rainbow light. “I see it.”

“Good,” Morrigan murmurs. “Now, very slowly, open the door.”

I reach out in my mind and push the door open. Immediately, knowledge floods in. It’s not overwhelming this time, but it’s a steady stream of information. I see rituals, spells, and the way magick used to flow before it was divided into elements.

“There was a reason,” I whisper, my eyes still closed. “The Druids didn’t split the magick just because they could. They had to.”

“What do you see?” Morrigan asks quietly.

“The magick was too powerful. Too pure. It was driving people mad with power. The Druids who survived made a choice.” My eyes snap open. “They split the magick to save humanity from itself and cursed the residual Praxian into the ground.”

“Okay, but you knew all of this already. What else?”

I shake my head.

“Look deeper.”

I close my eyes again, pushing the door open wider. The next wave of memories makes me stagger. “The fourth Guardian didn’t agree. He wanted to keep the power pure, to rule over everything. The others turned against him, trapped him in the ground with the cursed magick.”

“And now?”

“Now he wants out,” I whisper. “He’s been gathering strength all this time.”

Chaos swoops down from his tree perch, landing on my shoulder with a concerned chirp. I reach up to scratch his head absently before he scampers off under a bush.

Morrigan nods grimly. “Now you understand why these lessons are so crucial. You’re not just learning to control your power, Matilda. You’re learning to be a weapon against what’s coming. The question is, will you let others use you for their ends, or will you forge your own path?”

Before I can answer, a pulse of energy ripples through the ground beneath our feet. The forest around us goes eerily silent.

“What was that?” I ask, though I already know. I can feel it in my bones.

“The curse weakening,” Morrigan says. “We’re running out of time.”

“How long?”

She looks toward the academy, her expression troubled. “Without intervention? Days, maybe weeks. With the ritual you performed accelerating things maybe less.”

“Then I guess we had better speed this up a bit,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “Teach me everything I need to know.”

“You already know it, Matilda. You just don’t know how capable you are.” Morrigan smiles, and for a moment, I see the warrior goddess she used to be.

She raises her hands, and the air around us shimmers with ancient power. “Lesson one: how to access your power without letting it consume you.”

I steel myself because I have a feeling this is going to hurt.

I’m not wrong.

Morrigan’s training is brutal, but precise. She teaches me to channel the magick in small bursts, like learning to sip from a waterfall rather than drowning in it. Each time I succeed, the rainbow light becomes more focused, less wild. Each time I fail, the backlash leaves me gasping.

“Again,” she commands after my latest attempt, sending me stumbling backwards. “Focus on containing the energy in your core before releasing it.”

Sweat drips down my back despite the winter chill. My muscles ache from maintaining the strange stances she’s shown me. But something is different now. The magick doesn’t feel like it’s fighting me anymore.

“I think I’ve got it,” I say, gathering the power into a tight ball in my chest. When I release it this time, it flows out in a controlled stream rather than an explosion. The rainbow light dances around my hands, beautiful and deadly in its darkness.

“Better,” Morrigan says. “Much better. But that’s enough for today. You need to rest and process what you’ve learned.”

I let the power fade, suddenly exhausted. “Will it always be this hard?”

“No,” she says, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Soon, it will be harder.”

“Fantastic,” I mutter, but I’m smiling too. For the first time since discovering this power, I feel like I might actually have a chance at controlling it.

Chaos peeks out from under the bush. He’s watched the entire session with unblinking interest. He launches himself at me, and I smile when I catch him.

“Dawn?” I ask, scratching under his chin.

“Yes, and you might want to grab a healing potion from the infirmary. You’re going to feel this tomorrow.”

Looking down at my trembling hands and feeling the various aches already setting in, I have no doubt she’s right. “Can I bring one of the guys instead? He’s handy with the healing touch.”

“If you feel comfortable with them here, then by all means. But they do not interrupt or distract you. One slip, and they will be booted out.”

“Understood.”

As I walk back across the snowy grounds, I feel a spark of hope. I’m not helpless anymore. I’m not just a useless witch or a punching bag for my family. I’m not a vessel for someone else’s plans. I’m becoming something else entirely. What that something is... well, I guess I’ll find out, but I know I need to hit the library for some research on Druids.

For now, though, I need a hot shower, food, and maybe five minutes to pretend my biggest problem is just passing my classes like a normal student. Tomorrow will bring what it brings.

And this time, I’ll be ready for it.