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

18. Matilda

18

MATILDA

As the ash settles, I feel Vex’s presence behind me before his hand touches my shoulder. “It’s over, Matilda.”

Chaos winds around my legs. “No. My brother’s still out there.”

“Then let’s go after him,” Draven says, but I shake my head.

“He can wait. We need to deal with these syphons first.” My hands are still trembling from the power display, but my mind is clear. “If we don’t figure out how to stabilise and redistribute the magick properly, we’ll just be killing the world of magick.”

Blackthorn nods, already reinstating the wards. Blue light ripples across the barrier as he works, sealing MistHallow once again. “The library has texts on ancient channelling systems. We’ll start there.”

“I know where to look,” Morrigan adds. “There are references to similar redistribution attempts in the restricted section.”

“Good.” I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Ellie and my so-called parents are gone. Janice-slash-Anu is locked up, and while Gray is still out there, I’m not so sure he is a threat. At least not in the magickal sense. Only in that he is a waste of fucking oxygen for letting his ‘friends’ treat me so badly.

I start walking back toward the main building, my mind already mapping out what we need to do. “We should start in the library. Now. The sooner we figure this out, the better.”

“Agreed,” Blackthorn says. “The syphons are contained for now, but we need a permanent solution.”

The guys fall in step with us, and I feel a sense of gratitude for their unwavering support. After everything that’s happened, they’re still here. Still ready to tackle whatever comes next.

We enter the library, and Blackthorn leads us to the back. I run my fingers along the spines of ancient books, each one humming with its own kind of power, past shelves that whisper as we pass. The others spread out, each taking a different aisle. Chaos stays close, his eyes glowing as he watches me.

“Here.” Morrigan pulls out a massive tome bound in something that turns my stomach, its edges blackened as if it survived a fire. “Early attempts at magickal redistribution. Most failed, but there might be something useful.”

“Most failed catastrophically,” Blackthorn adds, appearing with his own stack of books. “Which is why we need to understand exactly what went wrong.”

We claim a large table near one of the windows. Within minutes, it’s covered in open books, scrolls, and Blackthorn’s growing pile of notes.

“Uhm,” I say as a thought suddenly occurs to me. “I didn’t even think to ask, Professor, but if we do this, keep the Praxian force uncursed and redistribute the world’s magick, it will all run through here, MistHallow.”

“Was there an actual question in that, Miss Matilda?” His bright blue eyes bore into mine, and I chew the inside of my cheek.

“Somewhere,” I mutter as Luc snickers.

“I think she’s asking if you’re okay with housing the source of Earth’s magick at your Academy.”

“Something like that,” I say with a weak smile.

Blackthorn tries to suppress his smile. “A valid concern, and I appreciate the thought. The answer is yes, I am prepared for that responsibility. MistHallow has always been more than just an Academy. It is a very special place. It’s a nexus of power, and not just any one power. If we succeed, it will become even more crucial that we keep it contained here.”

I nod, relieved but still uneasy. The weight of what we’re attempting settles on my shoulders like a heavy cloak.

“Look at this.” Vex points to a diagram showing a complex network of lines and nodes. “They tried using crystalline networks to direct the flow of power. Similar principle to the syphons.”

“But the crystals shattered,” Draven reads, leaning over his shoulder. “The magick was too much for them to contain.”

I study the diagram more closely, my insides suddenly curdling as the gravity of what I just did catches up with me. I killed my parents. Okay, they weren’t really my parents, and they were cruel and abusive, but they were the only ones I had. Shouldn’t I be reacting to this more badly than I am? Shouldn’t I be grieving somewhere, even if it is deep down? I stare blankly at the page in front of me and dig deep. I come up empty. There is nothing but a void there that should contain some pain, sorrow or grief. My magick curls around my soul and eases my worry that I’ve somehow turned into a monster.

With a deep breath, I tap the page. “The syphons are different, though. They’re already handling that kind of force. We just need to figure out how to redirect it properly.”

“Well, that’s why we are here,” Draven says. “Let’s get to it.”

We all settle with various texts spread out between us.

I’m not sure how much time passes as I read useless information on top of useless information. I rub my burning eyes, squinting at the faded text until the words blur together. My neck aches from being bent over books for so long, but I can’t stop now. Not when we’re so close.

“What if...” I grab a piece of paper and a pencil and start sketching rapidly. “What if we use the syphons as anchor points? Create a web of channels between them, like this?”

Blackthorn studies my rough diagram, his expression thoughtful. “It could work. Instead of fighting against the syphons’ natural tendency to channel power, we use it. The power would flow through established pathways instead of being drawn to a single point.”

“Like a circulatory system,” Morrigan adds, with a nod. “Keeping the different types of magick separate but connected. Each classification flows through its own channel but is part of a larger whole.”

Vex frowns at the diagram. “It’s going to take incredible precision to set up. One mistake in the pathways...”

“Could be catastrophic,” I finish. “I know. But we have to try. The alternative is letting everything collapse into chaos.”

“We’ll need to test it on a small scale first,” Blackthorn says. “Start with just two syphons and a simple channel between them in a highly contained area.”

I nod, already thinking through the logistics. “We can use the containment chamber for the initial tests. If something goes wrong, the wards there should hold.”

“Should,” Draven mutters, but he’s already pulling another book toward him .

The moon shifts position outside the windows as we work, marking the late hour. But none of us move to leave. There’s too much at stake, too much to figure out.

Chaos jumps onto the table, carefully picking his way between the books to settle near my notes. He watches me sketch another diagram.

“We’re really doing this,” I say quietly, more to myself than the others. “We’re going to try to reshape how magick itself flows.”

“We are,” Vex confirms, his hand finding mine under the table. “Together.”

I squeeze his fingers, drawing strength from his touch. Then I pull another book closer, determined to find the answers we need.