Page 39 of Soul Bound (Cursed Descent (MistHallow Academy) #2)

39

MATILDA

A woman stands before us, shimmering like heat waves over desert sand. Her form is barely holding together, bleeding energy just trying to manifest.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice carrying centuries of agony. “End this.”

“You’re her daughter,” I rasp, recognising her from Bronwen’s memories. “Bronwen’s daughter.”

She nods, her form wavering. “I’ve been trapped here, between life and death, since the curse... since my mother’s spell backfired.”

Draven moves closer, his death magick curling around his fingers. “Let me help.” He reaches out, dark energy flowing into her spectral form, giving her more stability.

“Thank you,” she says, her image solidifying slightly. “There isn’t much time. The curse wasn’t meant to be like this. Mother was trying to destroy them, to end their cruel experiments. But from within their containment cage...” Her voice breaks.

“It backfired,” I finish softly. “Trapping everyone, the male Druids, your mother, the Praxian magick... you.”

“Yes,” she confirms. “The curse bound them all to the earth. The magick, the Druids, even my mother’s soul. All of it trapped in an eternal struggle.”

“She was trying to protect me,” the daughter continues, her form flickering despite Draven’s necromancy supporting her. “The male Druids... what they did to her, to me... she wanted to end it all. But the containment cage twisted her curse. Instead of destroying them, it bound everything together.”

“Why are you still here?” I ask softly. “Why didn’t you pass on?”

“Someone had to remember. Someone had to wait for you.” Her ethereal eyes bore into mine. “You have her memories now. You know what really happened. The male Druids weren’t just creating vessels, they were trying to harness divine power through forced breeding.”

“But it went wrong,” Luc says grimly. “And now everything’s bound together - the Praxian, the Druids, Bronwen...”

“And the curse grows weaker every day,” the daughter adds urgently. “The Harvesters know this. They’ve been waiting, watching. Your family...” She wavers again, her form growing fainter.

“My family?” I press. “What about them?”

“They’re not what you think. Your mother, Anu... she...” The spirit’s voice grows weaker.

But before she can finish, her form begins to dissolve.

“Wait!” I reach for her desperately. “What about my mother?”

The daughter’s form stabilises briefly, her eyes blazing with urgency. “The Harvesters want to use you as a generator. An endless source of power.”

“We know this already! Who?” I demand. “What are they trying to power?”

“Once they connect you to it fully, you’ll be trapped in an endless loop of generating and feeding power. You were made to withstand it.”

Luc’s hand tightens on my waist. “By who?”

But I think I already know. “Anu. What is she trying to power up?”

Her form fades.

“Draven,” I snap. “Hold on to her.”

“I’m trying. The curse is pulling her back.”

“Why? Why does it want her?”

“She’s part of the source that’s powering it,” Vex states.

“Find what they’re trying to power. Stop them before they can complete the circuit. Because once it starts...”

She disappears completely, leaving the chamber feeling colder and emptier than before.

“Well, shit,” I mutter, staring at the spot where she vanished. “We need to get her back.”

“Never mind her,” Vex says. “We need to find Xanthos. He is the key to all of this. The last one standing? I don’t buy it. There is something else about that creep that we’re not getting.”

The chamber feels oppressive after Eldora’s spirit fades away. My mind races, trying to piece together everything we’ve learned. Anu, the Harvesters, the cursed ground is all connected, but how?

The chamber quivers gently, and I sense my energy intensify in reaction. Rainbow and black energy crackles across my skin, reacting to the residual death magick from Draven’s attempt to hold the daughter’s spirit.

“Something’s happening,” I gasp, doubling over as the power builds. The Praxian force squirms inside me, ravenous after tasting both Heaven and Hell essence earlier. It wants more.

Luc catches me as my knees buckle. “Tilly?”

His touch sends sparks of Hellfire through my system, and my power latches onto it greedily. The chamber’s amplification properties kick in, creating a feedback loop that makes both of us groan.

“We need to get out of here,” Vex warns, but it’s too late.

My power explodes outward. The walls crack, the ancient stone groaning under the pressure. The ritual circle beneath our feet glows, responding to the rising swell of energy.

“Fuck,” Draven growls, his magick reaching instinctively to meet mine. “The chamber’s amplifying everything.”

The power builds, feeding off both brothers’ Hell essence. I can feel myself losing control, but it feels too good to stop. The Praxian force sings through my veins, transforming everything it touches.

“Tilly,” Vex’s voice cuts through the haze. “You need to control it.”

“I don’t want to,” I gasp, arching as another wave hits, this time from Vex. His dark warlock power steeped in ancient bloodlines is intoxicating. “It wants this. It needs this.”

The ritual circle blazes brighter. Each wave of power feeds back through the system, growing stronger, darker.

“The curse,” I pant, understanding hitting me through the pleasure-pain. “It’s weakening. We’re weakening it just by being here.”

“Then we break it,” Luc growls, his hands tightening on my waist. “Now. While your power’s at its peak.”

“We don’t know how,” Vex argues, but I can see the calculations running behind his eyes.

“Yes, we do,” I say, remembering Bronwen’s memories, feeling her daughter’s lingering presence. “The curse was cast from love, twisted, desperate love. That’s the key. Not power or control, but surrender.”

The runes flash bright blue, telling me I’m right.

“The to be continued part of this curse wasn’t ever meant to be known, except for the one who can break it,” Vex says.

The guys move closer, drawn by the pull of magick and something deeper, darker.

“What do you need?” Draven asks, his voice rough with restraint.

“Everything,” I whisper. “I need everything you have.”

The air grows thick with power as they step closer, forming a circle around me. The ritual chamber hums in anticipation, ready. Waiting.

“Are you sure about this?” Vex asks, as his runes glow the same blue as the runes on the ground. If that wasn’t a sign, then we are blind.

I nod, feeling the Praxian force rise, ancient, hungry and wild. “The curse will hold until we break it, but the devastation will be catastrophic. I don’t think even MistHallow will be able to repair itself. We have to break it.”

“How?” Vex asks, but we all know the answer.

I turn to the altar. “We have to recreate it.”

As our powers merge, as the chamber’s amplification kicks in at full force, it becomes apparent that control might not be possible anymore. Not with the way the magick snaps between us, transforming into something entirely new.