Curse Broken (Cursed Descent (MistHallow Academy) #3)

11. Matilda

11

MATILDA

Vex face-plants into the frost-covered ground, and I almost reach for him before catching myself. The power burning through my veins is still too unstable. One touch might fry him. Instead, I watch as Blackthorn and the others continue channelling power into MistHallow’s failing wards, their combined magick creating a web of light that stretches across reality.

Reality. Gods, I can see it now. All of it. The fabric of existence spreads out before me like an infinite tapestry, threads of power weaving through everything. Each type of magick has its own pattern and its own song. But mine blazes with all colours at once. The raw Praxian force that makes up all the other Earthly magicks is settling inside me, content now, like Chaos after eating zombies.

The Araxi curls around my neck as if he knew I was thinking about him. His fur is standing on end with static and he looks cute as fuck. I stifle a giggle. I don’t think he’d appreciate being called adorable right now.

A groan from Vex draws my attention back to him. Through my fresh sight, I can see how his magick resonates with mine, creating harmonics that shouldn’t be possible.

The academy groans, ancient stone shifting as reality stabilises around it. I can see where the wards are knitting back together, power flowing through them like blood returning to a limb that fell asleep. But there are still tears, places where different realities bleed through.

Without thinking, I reach out with my power. The Praxian force responds instantly, rainbow light streaming from my fingers. Where it touches the tears, reality heals, the fabric of existence smoothing out like wrinkles in silk. It’s easy. Natural. Like I’ve always known how to do this.

“Holy shit,” Luc breathes, watching as another tear seals itself.

The others are still feeding power into MistHallow’s foundations, but I can see they’re running low. Even Blackthorn’s weakening. Meanwhile, I feel like I could do this forever. The Praxian force isn’t depleting, if anything, it’s growing stronger as I use it.

That should probably terrify me. Only a few weeks ago, I was a witch with wonky powers. Now, I’m casually rewriting the laws of reality. But it feels right, like I’m finally becoming what I was always meant to be.

A flash of movement catches my eye. Through one of the remaining tears, I see something that makes my breath catch. Stars. Not the kind you see in the night sky, but the original ones. The first source of power. They’re falling, but now I understand why. The chaos entities, the fallen stars, fragments of the original power. The first magick.

I pull back from the tear, focusing on the immediate problem. MistHallow still needs more power, and I’m the only one with enough juice left to do it properly. The others look ready to drop.

“Step back,” I tell them, letting the Praxian force build. It rises through me like a tide, rainbow light spilling from my skin. “I’ve got this.”

“Miss Matilda—” Blackthorn starts, but I cut him off.

“Trust me. I can do this.” The power responds to my will naturally now, no longer fighting or trying to tear me apart. It’s like having a star inside me, vast and ancient and perfectly controlled.

The tears are like loose threads in a tapestry. Pull them the wrong way, and everything unravels. But weave them back correctly, and you’ve got a tight-knit piece of art.

Rainbow light flows from my hands, threading through MistHallow’s foundations. I can feel the ancient power there, centuries of accumulated magick. It responds to the Praxian force like it’s been waiting for this.

The academy’s power meshes with mine, accepting the Praxian force like it’s coming home. Reality readjusts in waves, the tears sealing themselves as the wards snap back to full strength. It’s beautiful, watching the patterns reform, seeing how all the different types of magick from over the different centuries weave together into something greater than their parts. I haven’t replaced these ancient sources, only bolstered them and it feels pretty fucking amazing.

At my feet, Vex stirs. His power is easing now that the magick is settling around us.

“Jolly good,” Blackthorn says approvingly, giving me a beam, “Most impressive.”

“Thanks,” I say, my cheeks heating up slightly under the praise. I let the last threads of power settle into place, watching as MistHallow’s wards flare brightly, unseen except for me.

Chaos headbutts my chin, reminding me he’s still there.

Luc and Draven help Vex to his feet. He sways between them, grinning like an idiot. His runes flow on the same frequency as my power, creating little ripples around him.

“You,” he says, pointing at me and nearly falling over, “are absolutely magnificent. Like... like staring into the sun. But prettier. And more rainbow-y.”

“He’s high,” Xavi says exasperated. “Your power’s made him high.”

“Not high,” Vex protests, then reconsiders. “Well, maybe a little. But it’s more like... you know how some people can hear colours? I can see music now. Magick music. Reality music.” He waves his hands expansively, smacking Luc in the face. “And yours is like a whole fucking orchestra.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That sounds loud.”

“Oh, it’s definitely loud,” he agrees cheerfully. “I can see everything. It’s like being drunk on pure creation.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It is,” Vex says. His eyes are fever bright. “The runes adapted. They shouldn’t be able to do that. Forbidden marks are static—that’s why they’re so dangerous. But these...” He pulls up his shirt, showing where the marks burn brightly. They’re subtly different now, rainbow light threading through the original patterns. “They’re changing to match you.” He squints at me. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re really shiny?”

“Okay, we need to get him inside before his brain melts,” Xavi says. “And I need to get back home. Hopefully, the gateway is stable, but Matilda?”

“Yeah?” She looks like she’s about to give me some really bad news.

“You need to go back down there and force your magick to close that hole. Annabelle will see it as a threat to her domain if you don’t. Access to Hell from, well, anywhere is dangerous, not to mention it’s a two-way door. Do I need to go on?”

“Nope. Give me a hot minute to process all this shit and I’m one big door seal.”

“Good girl,” she murmurs before vanishing and I shiver. Still just a praise whore, no matter where it comes from. I guess some things will never change .

Chaos stretches across my shoulders, leaning his cheek against mine. Through our connection, I can feel his curiosity about Vex’s condition. He’s right - there’s something significant about those runes adapting. Something that might explain why Vex and I keep getting pulled into each other’s orbits like binary stars.

“Inside,” Blackthorn says firmly, breaking into my thoughts. “All of you. We need to get Vex somewhere he can rest and recover, and Miss Matilda, you look like you could use a sit down yourself.”

He’s not wrong. Now that the immediate crisis is over, exhaustion is creeping in around the edges of all this new power. Plus, I could do with an hour-long shower, a pile of food and my warm, cosy bed.

“Come on,” Luc says, helping Draven steer a still-babbling Vex toward the building. “Let’s get you both sorted before anything else exciting happens.”

I follow them inside with Chaos as a warm weight around my shoulders, trying not to think too hard about what just happened. Or what I’m going to do about that Hell portal. Or how Vex’s runes have changed. Or really, any of it.

One problem at a time.

“I need a shower,” I announce, already heading for the stairs. “Food, then bed. Everything else can wait.”

“Miss Matilda—” Blackthorn starts, but I cut him off with a wave.

“Nope. Unless the world is actively ending in the next hour, I’m not dealing with it. My power’s stable, the wards are holding, and Hell can deal with the gateway for a bit longer. Another few hours won’t hurt.”

“What about him?” Luc asks, nodding at Vex, who’s now humming what sounds suspiciously like death metal while watching patterns only he can see in the air.

“Get him to his room,” I say. “Let him sleep it off. Pretty sure he will wake up with a thumping magickal hangover, but not much we can do about that.”

As I head to my building, while the guys thankfully leave me to my own devices and go with Vex instead, I say, “Don’t wake me unless something’s on fire. And even then, think really hard about whether you can handle it yourself first.”

Luc laughs and I wave, picking up my pace to get to my room. My muscles ache, my head is spinning with new sensations, and all I want is to stand under hot water for a while.

Chaos hops down when I reach my bedroom door and push it open, immediately claiming his favourite spot on my pillow. My room looks different through these new senses. Threads of protective magick are woven through the walls, little sparks of power here and there, but the brightest spot in the room comes from under the bed. With a frown, I kneel down and glare at the bag of contraband jewels that Janice, sorry, Anu , gave me. It brings on a whole new set of questions, and ones that need answers.

Later .

Standing, I strip off my sweaty, dirt-covered clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor. The bathroom mirror shows me I look exactly the same, but there’s a subtle shimmer around me now. I don’t know if everyone can see it or if it’s my Praxian sight.

I turn the shower on as hot as I can and step in to just stand there, letting water pound against my shoulders and back, easing my aching muscles, until the bathroom fills with steam. My new awareness dulls under the water, making it easier to just exist in my skin again. That rings an alarm bell, and I frown. Magick dampening by water magick? That will be useful information for the next time I go into the dreaded chambers.

When I emerge, dripping wet and shivering, I dry off and pull on an oversized t-shirt. A tinkle over by my desk alerts me but it shows a covered tray appear. “Oh, Big B. You are the best!” The smell of fresh bread and soup makes my stomach growl. There’s even a pot of tea and a bar of chocolate and some chopped up raw steak for Chaos.

I sit at the desk and flip the lid off the container of steak. Chaos dives on it and I tuck into my soup. It’s perfect, tomato and basil, and I tear chunks of rustic bread to dunk in it, savouring every bite. The tension slowly drains from my shoulders as I eat and sip my tea.

Finishing up, I cover the tray while my bed calls to me, soft and welcoming. I crawl under the covers with Chaos settling next to my head, his soft chittering comforting in the otherwise silence of the room.

I’m asleep before I can even worry about what comes next.