38. Matilda
38
MATILDA
The forest looms ahead of us, the morning mist weaving between ancient trunks like spectral fingers. I’ve never been afraid of these woods before, despite warnings that it is unpredictable and mischievous in a not good way. Today, though, it seems malevolent, as if the trees themselves have aligned with Gray’s intentions.
“You don’t have to do this,” Vex says, his hand clasped tightly in mine as we approach the ward boundary. “We can find another way.”
But we both know there isn’t one. Not with the classification stones at risk. Not with so much at stake.
“I still don’t understand how he bypassed the wards,” Draven mutters, his eyes scanning the treeline. “Blood connection or not, he is a different being.”
“Anu’s blood,” I say, still trying to process Gray’s words. “He said ‘our mother.’ If Anu was his mother too, that makes him a…” I gulp. “… demi-god. ”
“Yes, it also makes you a demi-goddess. Remember that,” Vex insists.
“It’s not important now. He’s here,” Luc says. “Right now, we focus on stopping him. Ten minutes, Matilda. Not a second longer.”
I nod, memorising their faces. “I love you,” I whisper, the words inadequate for what I feel. “So much.”
Then, before I can lose my nerve, I step across the ward line.
“Go to Blackthorn,” I add.
The change is immediate—a subtle shift in the air, a drop in temperature. Beyond MistHallow’s protection, the forest feels wilder, more unpredictable. I follow the path I know leads to the clearing where I trained with Morrigan and where I first tapped into the destructive side of the Praxian force—where I killed to protect myself. It seems fitting that Gray would choose this place. My first step toward becoming what I fear most.
The mist thickens as I walk, unnatural in its density. This is Gray’s doing—a way to disorient me, to cut me off from my partners. I let my awareness expand, feeling for his presence. He’s close, his magickal signature is a cold, dark stain on the forest’s vibrant energy.
The clearing appears suddenly, the mist parting like a curtain. Gray stands in the middle, looking familiar and stranger than I remember. His face is the same—the sharp features, the cold eyes that always seemed to look past me rather than at me. But there’s something different about him now. Power radiates from him in sickening waves, and his skin ripples occasionally, as if something beneath it is trying to break free.
“Little sister,” he says, his voice carrying the same oily quality it had in my mind. “Right on time.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, stopping at the edge of the clearing. “We’re not siblings.”
His smile is cruel. “Oh, but we are. Deny it all you like, we are bonded by blood. The only thing that was real in that farce of a family.”
The growl escapes me against my will. How dare he try to tap into a familial ‘bond’ with me when he was so vile and careless.
“So she spawned you as well. Same dad? Or different?”
He narrows his eyes at my blunt question. But I can see that he has no idea. Not that I care. I don’t know if I believe what she told Draven or not. But I don’t really care, either way. It makes absolutely no difference to who I am.
Gray laughs suddenly, the sound unnaturally sharp in the quiet forest. “Who cares? She was all that mattered. I was the wanted child—you were just a necessity.”
The words wash over me. “If you’re trying to hurt me, I’m way past that. I’m not the same girl you knew.”
“I see it. It’s in our blood—Anu’s blood. But while I inherited her control, her vision, you got the raw power. The battery to my switch.”
“Switch?” I repeat, the word unfamiliar. We’ve never heard of a switch before .
His eyes glitter with malice at my lack of comprehension. “I was supposed to channel that energy, direct your force. The controller to your generator. You are important to me, Tilly-girl.”
“If that’s true,” I grit out, unable to stop what’s coming, “then why did you let Stryker do what he did? Why the cruelty, the?—”
“Conditioning,” Gray interrupts, dismissive. “You needed to be broken down to be properly controlled. Too much will, too much independence would have made you difficult to direct when the time came.” He shrugs, as if discussing the weather rather than systematic abuse. “It wasn’t personal.”
Rage flares inside me. “It was very fucking personal to me.”
“That’s your weakness,” he says. “You take everything personally. Even now, after everything, you’ve built your entire identity around connections to others. Your precious partners. This Academy. The magick of creatures beneath you. You’ve spread the Praxian force thin, woven it into a network of classification stones instead of focusing it where it belongs—in power.”
I sense the change in the air before I see it—a subtle distortion as Gray draws magick toward him. There’s a twisted quality to it, corrupted.
“Whatever you’re planning won’t work,” I say, trying to stall. “The Hellcube is secure. The Devil has made sure of it.”
Gray’s smile widens. “I don’t need whatever you placed in there. The real prize was always you. Your power. And now that you’ve distributed it so conveniently through your classification stones, I can finally access it properly.”
His hands glow with a dark, pulsing light. “You thought you were creating order, but you were just setting the stage for me.”
I hear movement behind me—my partners approaching. Gray notices too, his eyes flicking past me.
“I told you to come alone,” he hisses.
Before I can react, he thrusts his hands forward. The air around us shimmers as a dome of energy erupts from the ground, cutting off the clearing. I hear Vex shout my name, see Luc and Draven rushing forward, but they slam against the barrier, unable to pass through.
“A family reunion,” Gray says, contempt dripping from every word. “How touching.”
I turn to see my guys pounding against the barrier, their magick flaring uselessly against it. When I turn back to Gray, he’s changed again—darkness spreading across his skin like ink in water, his eyes now completely void-like.
“Did you tell them what you really are, sister? What you were made to become?” he asks.
I frown. I thought we already had that information, but he seems to think there is more.
Gray smiles, and it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. “The destroyer. The end of everything.” He raises his hands again, and magickal energy flashes through the clearing. “It’s time for you to fulfil your purpose, Matilda. Time for you to become what you were always meant to be.”
The ground beneath us trembles. In the distance, I hear the crack of stone—the classification stones responding to his manipulation. The network we created is being twisted, corrupted.
“Stop!” I shout, reaching for my magick, but it slips away like water through my fingers. Gray has somehow gained control of the channels I created.
“I can’t stop. This is what I was made for—to be the controller. To direct your power.” His voice changes, deepens. “You were just the battery, but I was special.”
With a violent gesture, he sends a pulse of energy radiating outward. I feel it hit the classification stones, feel the network buckling under the strain. If it collapses, magick will die.
I look back at my guys, trapped outside the barrier. Vex’s face is ashen; he knows what’s happening. His vision is coming true—the choice I have to make.
“Matilda, don’t!” he shouts, his voice muffled by the barrier.
But we both know I have no choice.
I close my eyes and reach deep inside myself, to the place where the Praxian force lives, to the core of what I am. I’ve always held back, always controlled it, afraid of what might happen if I let go completely.
Now I have to become what I fear most.
“That’s it,” Gray whispers, watching me with those void-like eyes. “Embrace it. Become the generator.”
I open my eyes and look at him. “I’m not a generator for this power,” I say, my voice already changing, resonating with power. “I’m the source.”