Page 17 of Soul Bound (Cursed Descent (MistHallow Academy) #2)

17

MATILDA

The library is eerily quiet at dusk, most students having left for dinner already. I’ve claimed a secluded corner table, surrounding myself with every book on Druids I could find. My muscles still ache from training with Morrigan, but the need for answers outweighs my desire for rest.

Most of these texts are useless. Seemingly romanticised accounts of nature worship and herb lore. Nothing about the real power that these ancients must’ve had to curse the fucking Praxian in the first place.

I’m halfway through Ancient Practices of the Celtic Isles when a steaming cup appears in front of me.

“You missed dinner,” Luc says, sliding into the chair beside me. Draven and Vex take seats across the table, their expressions varying degrees of concern.

“Doing some light reading?” Draven asks, picking up one of the discarded volumes.

I wrap my hands around the cup, inhaling the comforting scent of chamomile tea. “Trying to understand what I learned during training. What I saw.” I hesitate, glancing around the empty library before lowering my voice. “There’s something you all need to know. The ritual we performed wasn’t just about binding us together or generating power. It was about awakening something. Something that’s been trapped under the academy for centuries.”

Draven’s expression darkens. “What kind of something?”

“The fourth Guardian,” I say quietly. “Or is he the first? Anyway, he’s trapped with the cursed magick. The other three trapped him when he decided to back out of the binding of the Praxian to the earth. The ritual weakened the bonds further.”

“Wait,” Luc interrupts, his hand finding mine under the table. “Are you saying there’s an ancient, probably homicidal Guardian trapped under our feet?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Vex looks troubled. “Are we sure this Guardian isn’t, in fact, Xanthos?”

“I don’t think so,” I say, shaking my head. “I got the feeling that he is still trapped, whereas Xanthos wasn’t.”

“How long until the shit hits the fan?” Draven asks, his voice tight.

“According to Morrigan, days. Maybe weeks.” I pull one of the older books closer. “I’ve been trying to find anything about Druid magick, seeing as it is growing more apparent that I am one, and I have zero clue what that even means.”

Vex opens one of the texts and holds his hand out over it. The pages flip over rapidly, creating a small breeze that ruffles my hair.

“Here’s something,” he says, dropping his hand flat on the pages to stop them from turning over. “It mentions Druid circles being positioned at ley line intersections. Says they used the natural power of the earth to amplify their abilities. MistHallow sits on a ley line intersection, amongst other things. That’s why the academy was built here.”

I lean forward, interested. “Does it say anything about how they accessed that power?”

“Not exactly, but...” Vex’s finger traces the text. “It talks about something called ‘earthing.’ Apparently, Druids could ground themselves in nature’s energy, using it as a foundation for their magick rather than drawing solely from within.”

That catches my attention. During training, Morrigan had told me to direct the power into the earth. I pull the book closer, scanning the text. “Look here. It says they used ritual circles not just for ceremonies, but as focusing points. The circles helped them direct and control the flow of power.”

Draven leans back, considering. “The curse runes?”

“But how does any of this help us?” I ask in frustration. “It still doesn’t tell me anything about their actual power. Forget about the Praxian for a hot minute. What is a Druid’s power? Everyone keeps talking about classifications in magick like it’s always been that way. But we know it wasn’t. The Druids were there when magick first burst from the earth, when the Praxian exploded, right?”

“Right,” Vex says slowly, his clever brain probably already way ahead of me.

“So, what if Druids don’t have a specialty because they existed before specialties were even a thing? Before witches started dividing magick into neat little boxes, it was raw.” The idea gains momentum as I speak. “The Druids were the ones who bound the Praxian. They had to understand all types of magick to do that, not just one element.”

Draven nods. “Druids retained the ability to work with raw, undivided magick.”

“You’re not limited by the artificial boundaries the rest of us have,” Luc says with a wicked smile.

“And why information is suppressed about Druids,” I say grimly. “I mean, I’ve never heard of Druids still walking around. I thought they were myths and legends. But I’m not exactly a font of all information. Vex? Am I right? Are there no Druid designations?”

Vex’s expression grows serious, his blue eyes distant as he accesses his seemingly endless knowledge. “I think you’re right. I haven’t heard of any Druids. There certainly aren’t any here, nor at my last university, and I’ve never met one.”

“Convenient,” Draven mutters.

“Too convenient,” I agree. “So either they all died out naturally, which seems unlikely given their power, or...”

“Or they were systematically eliminated,” Luc finishes grimly. “By people who wanted to maintain control over how magick was used.”

“But who? Who is ‘they’?”

“Whoever they are, they missed one,” Draven says, looking at me intently. “You.”

I think about what Morrigan said about bloodlines and about power lying dormant. “Maybe they didn’t know about all the bloodlines. Or maybe some Druids hid what they were, passed themselves off as regular witches.”

“Or maybe they just were regular witches,” Vex says. “Until you came along. We know your family is directly descended from Xanthos. Or rather, we suspect strongly. So, between you and him, maybe there really was a designation change. Witches are, in essence, the same. Wielders of the arcane.”

“So, an evolution of the species?” I ask.

“Yeah. It makes sense. If we are going back all the way to the beginning, then why not? Every species evolves. Especially when the need arises to ensure survival.”

“So the Druids dumbed themselves down?” Luc asks.

“Hey,” Vex snaps. “Who are you calling dumb?”

“Not you, dumbass,” he growls. “Okay, maybe I am.”

“Shut it,” I mutter. “Luc is right. The Druid magick was lost. Forgotten, and I think that ritual we inadvertently performed?—”

“Brought it all back,” Vex states.

“Yep.”

We stare at each other for a long time. Finally, we seem to be getting somewhere, even if somewhere is still a million miles from where we need to be; it’s a start.