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

33. Luc

33

LUC

The sound of a crash somewhere in the Academy wakes me, followed by distant cursing. The magickal tremors are still happening, then. Fan-fucking-tastic.

The bed shifts as I stretch, and my arm brushes against bare skin. Matilda is still deeply asleep, her face peaceful despite the chaos our magickal renovations have unleashed. Draven sits in the window seat, staring out at the grounds with a contemplative expression. Vex is nowhere to be seen, probably off doing something responsible and boring.

“Another one,” Draven says without turning.

“Mmm.” I carefully extract myself from the tangle of sheets without disturbing Tilly. “Felt bigger than yesterday’s.”

“They’re getting worse, not better.” His voice is low, concerned.

I pad across to him, completely naked and press my hands on the window pane. Outside, a group of students are staring at a fountain suddenly sprouting in the middle of the courtyard. Except instead of water, it’s shooting multicoloured sparks twenty feet into the air.

“Well, that’s new,” I muse.

Draven’s mouth twitches. “That’s the third spontaneous magickal manifestation this morning. MistHallow is not impressed. And put some fucking clothes on, man. Or do you want the entire student body to see your dong?”

I chuckle and snap my fingers theatrically. “It’s worth looking at, don’t you think?”

He narrows his eyes and then rolls them. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You aren’t?”

“Oh, but I am. The Hall of Dicks needs mine to adorn it in pride of place.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Just. No.”

I chuckle. I love winding him up. He always was so strait-laced. I wonder if I can talk Tilly into posing for a portrait with me while she rides my cock, her head thrown back, her nipples like bullets…

“Don’t you want to know what the others were?” His voice interrupts my daydreaming.

“Go on then.”

“All the books in the east wing library decided to rearrange themselves alphabetically by author’s names spelt backwards, and the suits of armour in the foyer started critiquing students’ fashion choices.”

I laugh. “Please tell me we’re keeping that last one.”

“Blackthorn already shut it down. Apparently, being told you have ‘the fashion sense of a blind troll with vertigo’ made a first-year cry.”

“Weak,” I scoff. “The real world is going to eat that kid alive.”

“Maybe so, but it’s not a good look for us if students want to go home.” Draven turns back to the window, his expression more serious than his usual brooding. “We need to talk about the instability. It’s not getting better.”

“What does Vex think?”

“That’s why he’s not here. He’s in the library researching solutions with Morrigan.”

I drop into the chair opposite him, rubbing a hand over my face. “Any word from Mom about her side?”

“The foundation stone remains secure. Nothing untoward.”

“So just fragile Earth playing us for idiots.”

“Sounds about right,” he grits out.

“Figures.”

Another tremor shakes the building, gentle but persistent. On the bed, Matilda stirs, mumbling something about “stupid magick” before burying her face deeper into the pillow.

“She needs more time to recover,” Draven whispers, watching her with a tenderness that still surprises me sometimes. My brother has always kept his emotions locked down tight. But with Tilly, he’s different. Softer.

“We may not have time,” I point out. “The magickal instability is escalating. If we don’t do something soon, we might have worse problems than talking statues and sparkly fountains.”

The door opens, and Vex strides in, arms laden with ancient tomes. His eyes are ringed with shadows, suggesting he hasn’t slept much, if at all.

“Good, you’re up,” he says without preamble, dumping the books on the desk. “We have a problem.”

“Just the one?” I quip. “Dray has counted at least three new ones since breakfast, including a fountain of magickal fireworks that I’m pretty sure is violating several safety regulations.”

Vex ignores my humour, as usual. “The network isn’t stabilising because it’s incomplete. The classification stones are connected to the foundation stone, but the energy flow is erratic because the conduits aren’t fully established.”

“Speak English, Blackwell,” I sigh.

He gives me a withering look. “We need to complete the soul bond.”

That gets my attention. “Oh?”

“All of us.” Vex runs a hand through his already dishevelled hair. “It was Morrigan’s idea when she found out about me and Tilly. The binding ritual we performed is lopsided, for lack of a better word. More heavily leaning towards one side when it should be an equal balance. In short, Tilly bonded with me, but her connections to you and Draven are still potential rather than actual.”

Draven’s eyes narrow. “So we do the soul bond with her. ”

“Yes.” Vex opens one of the books, pointing to a diagram that looks like a magickal circuit board. “While this isn’t the same in the slightest, the intent behind it is. The four of us form a kind of conduit network. Tilly is the Praxian carrier, connected to the foundation stone. I’m linked to her, which creates one stable channel. But the magick is trying to flow through all potential paths, including the incomplete ones to you two.”

“Like a river with multiple branches, but some are blocked,” I say.

“Exactly. The result is pressure building up in the system, causing these magickal surges and instabilities because it’s misaligned.”

I lean over to study the diagram. “And you think completing the soul bond will fix this?”

“I think it will help reorganise the flow,” Vex clarifies.

From the bed comes a sleepy voice. “Are you guys talking about me?”

We all turn to see Matilda sitting up, her hair a spectacular mess and eyes still heavy with sleep. Despite the situation, I smile at the sight.

“Morning, my sweet,” I greet her. “You’re just in time to learn the magical world is lopsided.”

She throws a pillow at me with surprising accuracy. “Why? What’s happening now?”

Vex sits beside her on the bed, taking her hand. “The magickal network is still unstable. We need to complete the soul bond—between you and Luc, and you and Draven. ”

She blinks, processing this. “You mean like what we did?”

“Similar, yes. But specifically aimed at establishing permanent connections.”

Another tremor shakes the room, this one strong enough to rattle the windows. Outside, the magickal fountain shoots higher, now reaching the third-floor windows.

“Okay,” Matilda says simply.

“Okay?” I repeat. “That’s it? No questions, no hesitation this time?”

She gives me a look that’s far too knowing for someone who just woke up. “We’ve been heading here from the beginning, haven’t we? The four of us are connected in ways that go beyond the physical. After Vex and I did it, I knew I wanted it with you. This just makes it official. Are you saying you don’t?”

Draven moves from the window to the bed, sitting on her other side. “I do.”

“I’m not saying that at all,” I say, keeping my tone deliberately light despite the emotions churning inside me. “When do we start?”

“Now would be ideal,” Vex says, already flipping through another book. “The instability is growing worse by the hour.”

“What do we need?” Draven asks.

“A private, magickal space,” Vex begins listing. “Ritual components specific to each of your magical signatures. I had the Well family medallion, so something akin to that. ”

“And what about if we went back underground?” Matilda suggests. “It’s the most powerful place at MistHallow.”

“Good thinking,” Vex agrees. “Draven, you and Luc will need to contribute personal items that represent your connection to Tilly.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“Something meaningful. Something that symbolises what you want from the bond.”

I consider this as Matilda disappears into the bathroom. What could possibly represent what she means to me? What I want from a bond that will literally link our souls?

“One big happy family,” I mutter, though the idea doesn’t bother me as much as it might have once. “Mom will be pleased. Phoenyx never went in for it. Gaia prefers the company of multiples. Who’d have thought we’d end up in a quadrangle?” I muse to Draven.

He searches my eyes for insincerity, but he won’t find any.

I make my decision about my offering. It’s not the obvious choice, but it feels right.

“We’ll meet in the library in an hour,” Vex announces. “That should give us time to prepare.”

Draven and I nod, heading out to collect what we need. As I flame out, I can’t help but wonder if this is crazy—binding ourselves together permanently when we’ve only known Matilda for a relatively short time. But then I think of her standing up to gods and angels, rewiring the fabric of magick itself, and looking at us like we’re something precious instead of the monsters we’ve often been.

“Second thoughts?” Draven asks, landing in my room next to me.

“About Tilly? Never.” I glance at him. “About being mystically hitched to you and Vex for all eternity? Maybe a few.”

He snorts. “As if you haven’t been stuck with me for eternity already?”

“Fair point. What are you offering for the ritual?”

Draven is quiet for a moment. “Something I’ve kept hidden for a long time.”

Typical cryptic Draven. “Well, I’m off to pilfer something from Hell. Meet you back here in thirty?”

He nods, and we split up, each on our own mission. I slip between realms, appearing directly in my bedroom in the Residence.

What I’m here for isn’t on display. It’s locked in a small box, hidden beneath a loose stone in the fireplace—a place no one would think to look because, well, it’s Hell. Things don’t burn here unless we want them to.

The box contains only one item: a small crystal vial containing my blood. Black, shot through with fire, it sparks against the crystal, making it warm to the touch. I cast a little spell and create a silver chain to attach it to. I don’t expect her to wear it. It probably isn’t the best idea. This is dangerous stuff knowing what we know about the Succubus. But for some reason, I know I want her to have it .

Tucking the vial securely in my pocket, I return to Earth, materialising outside MistHallow’s main building just as another magickal tremor shakes the ground. This one brings with it a shower of luminescent butterflies that dissolve into sparkles when touched.

“Getting worse,” I mutter, making my way back inside.

Draven is already waiting at the circle etched into the stone, a small velvet pouch clutched tightly in his hand. He gives me a questioning look when he sees me.

“Got what I needed,” I confirm. “You?”

He nods once, not elaborating.

Vex appears. “Ready?”

“Where’s Tilly?” I ask.

“Already headed down. She wanted to check on the classification stones.”

“And you let her go alone?”

“She’s with Chaos, and since when do I let her do anything?”

“True,” I mutter, hoping she is okay. She is stubborn and strong, more powerful than most, but I still worry about her.

Vex presses the button, and we drop.

The journey down is quicker this time and safer, with the chambers recognising us and creating a direct path to the central room where we placed the classification stones. When we arrive, Matilda is already there, standing near the altar with a look of concern.

“They’re pulsing erratically,” she says by way of greeting. “Like a heart with an abnormal rhythm. ”

Stepping up beside her, I take a look. The classification stones are flashing in an uneven pattern, the threads of light between them thinning and thickening unpredictably. The image of the foundation stone at the centre flickers in and out of visibility.

“Let’s get started,” Vex says. “The sooner we do this, the better.”

“Who’s first?” I ask Dray.

“You. Born first and all that.”

“Oh, now you use that to your advantage?”

He smirks and I roll my eyes, but it’s fine by me. I’m ready for this. I pull the vial out of my pocket and take Matilda’s hand. I press it against her palm and wrap my hand around hers.

I’ve never been good at solemnity, but for once, I don’t feel the need to hide behind humour. “I, Luc Prince of Hell, seek to bind my soul to Matilda Blackwell. I offer my fire, my light, and my unwavering dedication. I seek a bond that creates a home beyond realms, a family beyond blood.”

As the last word leaves my lips, the flame torches in the walls flare higher. The classification stones respond, their flashing briefly synchronising before resuming their chaotic rhythm, only less erratic than before.

I step back, leaving her with the vial. She looks at it knowingly, her lips parting slightly, and then puts it on, settling my blood between her breasts.

Draven’s turn comes, and I’m surprised by the emotion in his usually controlled voice. “I, Draven Prince of Hell, seek to bind my soul to Matilda Blackwell. I offer my strength, my loyalty, and my eternal devotion. I seek a connection that allows us to be whole together in ways we never could be apart.” From the velvet pouch, he withdraws a small, carved bone figure—a wolf, exquisitely detailed. “My protection and guidance through the darkest paths. I bring this guardian spirit to our bond, a sentinel that will never falter.”

The classification stones respond immediately. Their light intensifies. The irregular flashing steadies, finding a rhythm that matches our heartbeats.

“What is given freely can never be taken,” Vex murmurs, “what is joined willingly can never be broken.”

For a moment that stretches into eternity, we are truly one being, experiencing each other in ways that transcend physical understanding. Then, gradually, the intensity recedes. We remain connected but individual once more, like islands in the same archipelago—separate but part of the same greater whole.

As the light fades, I become aware of the classification stones around us. They’re glowing with a steady, harmonious light. The threads between them have thickened into sturdy channels, and the image of the foundation stone at the centre is crystal clear and unwavering.

“It worked,” Matilda breathes, staring at the stones.

“You doubted me?” Vex asks with a smile.

“You? Wasn’t it Morrigan who said this would work?” I correct him.

“Whatever,” he says. “I agreed. ”

We share a laugh, and my magick deepens. I have greater control as if the infernal power that has always flowed through me has been refined and enhanced. When I summon a small flame to my palm, it burns with perfect, steady light, neither flickering nor fading in this magick-dampening hellhole.

“The bond has harmonised our magical signatures. We’re drawing on each other’s strengths through Tilly.”

Matilda closes her eyes and frowns when she opens them again. “Don’t you two have a last name, then?”

I snort. “No. Why?”

“So what do I call myself then?”

“Matilda Blackwell works perfectly,” Draven says.

She smiles. “Let’s get out of here and see if things have settled above ground.”

“What about consummating this?” I ask. “Aren’t we supposed to fuck?”

Matilda giggles. “Yes, but I’d rather not here. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” I say, taking her hand and kissing it.

Chaos, who I hadn’t even seen earlier, suddenly launches himself at me and settles on my shoulder. I freeze, coming to a complete stop as I panic slightly.

“It’s okay,” Tilly says with a laugh. “He won’t eat you.”

“Easy for you to say,” I venture. “He likes you.”

“And now he likes you. All of you.”

I take a cautious step forward, which seems to settle Chaos some more, and hoping for the best, we let the tunnels lead us out, up through a winding corridor that leads directly into… Blackthorn’s office.

“Err,” Matilda says, as she pushes the door open, and we see Blackthorn waiting for us. “Sir?”

“Come in,” he says, “Don’t stand around in those tunnels all day. It’s bad for your health.”

“Agreed, damp and dark doesn’t suit me.”

“Any wonder you came to England then,” Blackthorn mutters under his breath, but I heard him anyway. “So, you have stabilised the network. Impressive. Morrigan was correct in her assumption.”

“Not unsurprisingly.”

“You do realise what you’ve done, don’t you?”

“Created a stable magickal infrastructure?” Matilda suggests.

“That, yes,” Blackthorn agrees. “But also something far more significant. By binding yourselves to each other and to the foundation of magick itself, that is to say, the Praxian force inside Matilda, you’ve essentially become living keystones in the new magickal order.”

“Meaning?” Draven prompts.

“The soul bonds you’ve created are unprecedented. Four individuals, each with exceptionally rare magickal signatures, linked directly to the foundation of magick itself. You’ve made yourselves into something new. Something beyond the classifications we’ve established.”

“Is that a problem?” Matilda asks cautiously.

To my surprise, Blackthorn actually smiles—a small, tight expression, but a genuine smile, nonetheless. “On the contrary. It’s exactly what the magickal world needs—guardians who exist both within and beyond the system, able to maintain it without being constrained by it.”

Another tremor shakes MistHallow, but this one is different—gentle, almost like a contented sigh.

“I suspect we’ve seen the last of the major disruptions, though minor adjustments may continue for some time.” He studies us for another long moment, and I get the distinct impression he’s seeing more than just our physical forms—perhaps the magical connections between us, or the changes the bond has wrought in our very essences. “Now, to go back to normal as if none of this happened.”

“Easy for you to say,” I point out.

“Just go,” he says with a sigh. He then flings his door open with magick, so we have no excuses to linger. We rush towards it, and it shuts behind us.

“Well,” I say as we head away from his office before he decides something isn’t to his liking, “that went better than expected. I was sure he’d at least threaten to expel us for unauthorised soul-binding.”

Matilda laughs, the sound lighter and more carefree than I’ve heard from her in days. “I think we’re past the point where he can expel us.”

“True. Though I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect the magickal upgrade. That’s a nice bonus.” I grimace as Chaos digs his claws into me, reminding me of his furry presence .

“So what now?” Matilda asks, looking around at the three of us.

Plucking Chaos off my shoulder, I set him down and he scampers back to Blackthorn’s office. I slip an arm around Tilly’s waist. “Now, my dear wife-and-soul-bonded, we go upstairs and celebrate properly. I’m thinking Champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries, and at least twelve hours of testing just how much energy our new bond can handle.”

She blushes but doesn’t pull away. “Better to consummate this before something goes sideways.”

I groan. “She didn’t just do that, did she?”

“She did,” Draven says. “We’d better hurry.”

I take my wife and flame us out back to her bedroom where I strip her off and ram my cock into her without wasting another second.