Page 23 of Soul Bound (Cursed Descent (MistHallow Academy) #2)

23

MATILDA

Gripping the strap of my backpack that holds the magickal book that I didn’t want to leave out of sight, I’m still buzzing with residual power when I make my way out of the forest and wave goodbye to Morrigan.

Luc meets me on the boundary line with a smile. “You’re smoking,” he says.

I glance down at my slightly singed clothes. “Training with Morrigan. It got a bit crazy.”

“Good crazy or bad crazy?”

“Both? Neither? Who can tell anymore?”

“Well, we have some information you need to know. Vex and Draven are waiting in the library.”

“Not the dining hall?” I ask hopefully.

“Sorry. This is a private chat.”

“Can we make it a quick private chat? I’m famished.”

“We’ll do our best.” His shoulder brushes mine as we walk, and I feel that now-familiar spark of connection between us. The bond thing makes it impossible to hide how attuned we are to each other, though we both pretend not to notice. “So,” he adds casually, “how was training, really?”

“I had some revelations.” I flex my fingers, watching black and rainbow sparks dance between them. “About the Praxian magick. About me.”

He catches my hand, studying the lingering energy before his eyes scan over my head and narrow. “Good revelations?”

“Terrifying ones.” He meets my eyes again. “But necessary.”

“Hmm.” His gaze flicks back up to my head, and he reaches out to curl a lock of hair around his finger and draws it in front of my face. “This is new.”

I stare at the black strand and shudder. “That’s not good,” I mutter, taking the hair from him and bunching it in my fist. It feels haunted to the touch, making my soul go cold. I drop it quickly and smile at Luc. “Guess Vex will have to come up with a different name for me,” I joke.

Luc remains silent. He is worried about it, but neither of us mentions it again.

We enter the library, where Vex and Draven are tucked away in the back corner, surrounded by what looks like every yearbook MistHallow has ever produced. The tension in their postures sets off immediate alarm bells.

“Okay,” I say, dropping into an empty chair. “What’s got you all looking like someone died?”

They exchange glances in that universal signal that I’m about to hear something I won’t like.

“We found some information,” Vex says carefully, sliding an old yearbook across the table. “About someone named Madeline Cooper. Class of 1923.”

I look down at the photograph and feel the world tilt sideways. The girl staring back at me could be my reflection.

“That’s my book,” I whisper, touching the page where the familiar tome with its shifting symbols rests in her grasp. After my breakthrough with Morrigan, this doesn’t feel like a coincidence. Nothing at MistHallow ever is, I’m learning.

“There’s more,” Draven says quietly. “Much more.”

The residual energy from training crackles under my skin as I look up at their serious faces. “Tell me everything.”

Vex spreads out several documents across the table. “Madeline Cooper wasn’t just another student. She was part of something called the Historical Research Society. They were investigating the tunnels beneath MistHallow, specifically the ritual chamber.”

“The same one we found?” I ask, my hand unconsciously moving to touch the book in my bag.

“The very same,” Draven confirms. “But here’s where it gets interesting. Two weeks after this photo was taken, Madeline disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” The black strand of hair feels heavier somehow.

“They found her three days later,” Luc continues, his hand finding mine under the table. “Like others before her, alive, but changed. She left MistHallow shortly after and was never heard from again.”

I study the photograph more closely. “The markings around the door in this picture are different from what we saw.”

“They’re evolving,” Vex says grimly. “Changing with time, like the star charts, we think.”

“And look at these numbers.” Draven points to tiny scrawls in the corner of the photo. “It’s like a mirror image of the patterns we found in the tunnels.”

A chill runs down my spine as I remember my training session with Morrigan. The way magick wanted to dance together, to form patterns of their own.

“Do you think she was trying to understand what happens when the containment fails?” I ask quietly. “Or was she trying to recurse it? Or uncurse it to take the magick?” The possibilities are endless right now.

“We think she left the journal—your book—as a warning,” Luc says. “Or maybe instructions for whoever managed to find it next.”

“So there were others who didn’t find it?”

“Seems that way,” Vex says. “And whatever’s happening now, whatever’s building beneath MistHallow, is all connected. The tunnels, the ley lines, the star alignments...”

“The pattern becomes complete,” I murmur, quoting the book’s warning.

“There’s something else,” Luc adds. “Professor Ward mentioned astronomical records from 1923. The stellar activity then was similar to what we’re seeing now. It’s not just history repeating itself. It’s building to something bigger.”

I pull out the book, its symbols shifting more rapidly than ever.

“We found something else,” Luc says, pulling out an old document.

“Taking the credit, are you, Your Highness?”

I look up to see Professor Blackthorn has arrived at the party.

Luc chuckles. “Okay, you found something else.”

“Better,” Blackthorn chuckles. “Miss Matilda. It appears that Madeline Cooper was your great-grandmother’s sister.”

The world seems to pause for a moment as I take that in. “What?”

“The Druid bloodline,” Vex explains. “which runs through your family. Madeline had it, too, but according to these records, her power was different. Slightly unstable.”

“That is putting it mildly,” Blackthorn says, sitting down. “She was volatile with her emotions. Her temper could be flicked on and off like a switch. She was deemed mentally unstable.”

“After the tunnels?” I croak.

“No, before. She was awaiting a full assessment from the Council of Witches. She wasn’t supposed to be with other students, but she must’ve snuck out. Probably several times.”

“Someone wasn’t doing their job as Headmaster, Tut. Tut,” Luc says with a smirk.

Blackthorn scowls at him. “I wasn’t Headmaster then. That is a recent promotion.”

“Oh,” Luc says, sounding disappointed. “Well, okay, whoever was Headmaster, severely lacked any skill in this area.”

“And what area would that be?” I snap, feeling defensive over my insane relative.

Luc narrows his eyes as he stares at me. “The area we currently find ourselves in. We are lucky we have Blackthorn, who actually happens to know shit.”

“Gee, thanks for that glowing assessment,” Blackthorn drawls. “But we digress.”

“She could sense the ancient magick,” Draven states, getting us back on track, “but couldn’t fully access it. The book found her, like it found you, but...”

“But she wasn’t the one it was waiting for,” I mutter.

“Exactly,” Luc says. “She documented her attempts to understand the power, the tunnels, everything. But the magick rejected her. It was too much.”

I think about my training session with Morrigan and how natural it had felt once I stopped fighting it. “Because the Praxian chooses its vessel,” I murmur. “It’s not something you can force.”

“The astronomical alignments she recorded match what’s happening now,” Draven continues. “But back then, nothing happened. The pattern wasn’t ready.”

“Because I wasn’t born yet,” I say softly. “The magick was waiting for me.”

“That’s why your power is different,” Vex says.

“Because I am a witch in a Druid’s body,” I state, surprising everyone with my revelation except Big B, who nods knowingly. Thank the gods for him. We really are lucky to have him.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Vex asks slowly.

“I believe Miss Matilda is telling us she is, in fact, the first Guardian.”

“Yep,” I say with a sigh, sitting back and plastering a fake smile on my face. “That would be me.”