Page 73 of The Cursed

Falling. Falling.

I landed in my own body and sat as I had before the maze formed, staring back at the cemetery where it had formed. There were no pillars that the Cursed had created, no severed heads resting upon hedges. The soil in front of me was flat and even, a mix of grass and wildflowers covering the gravesites of the past generations of Brays and Madizzas.

As if the maze had only existed inside my head.

I pulled my hands off the ground, recoiling back from the severing of the magic I'd immersed myself in. Staring down at my palms in shock, I never saw the branch swinging towards the side of my head.

I felt the pain, my temple exploding into agony the moment it struck. The stick cracked in half as I tumbled to the side, forcing myself to roll onto my feet as I turned to face the person responsible. The witch who stood before me was young, a member of my legacy class.

A group of six stood behind her, each having gathered their own branches. My body felt battered as I came back into it, my arms covered in bruises and scratches I hadn't felt at first.

How long had they stood there, beating me as I dreamt of the Source?

It hadn’t been the Source under attack in the vision I’d thought was reality.

It had been me.

I stood as straight as I could manage, glaring at them with disdain. My body swayed to the side, feeling like I might fall over. The Source reached up to grab me, a gentle cradle supporting my weight as my vision swam.

The first witch swallowed as she tossed her cracked branch to the ground, and I turned my attention to the others.

I blinked, sending out the call with my magic. The Source skittered along the ground, crawling like insects until it touched those branches. Twisting them into knots, they turned on those who wielded them and jabbed toward their hearts.

One witch squealed as she dropped hers, the others following suit as they looked at me.

"Fine," the male witch said, cracking his head to the side. He wore the white robes of the crystal witches, his muscles bulging from them and hard as stone. "No magic then."

He surged forward, sprinting to close the distance between us. My body snapped into that place of muscle memory and adrenaline, moving to the side to avoid his attack. I cracked my elbow against his spine, sending him crashing toward the ground as I turned and caught the next witch with the heel of my palm in her throat.

Her hands grappled for purchase, her nails scratching the surface of my skin before she collapsed to her knees and sputtered for breath.

I stepped past her, gliding forward on sure feet. The magic in my veins fueled my body, making me feel invincible despite my injuries. In all my years fighting in the cages my father put me in, I'd never felt such rage.

I slammed my fist into the next witch's spleen, driving my knee into her nose when she bent over in pain.

Two of the others turned to retreat back to the school, even as I committed their faces to memory. It would not be Gray who meted out their punishment this time.

It would be me.

"How pathetic," I mumbled, turning back to face the first male witch who got to his feet. He looked to the other one who had yet to attack, waiting as they glanced between each other. "Beating on a woman when she's daydreaming." The disgust in my tone was evident, leaving little doubt as to what I thought of them and their bravery in attacking me.

I took them by surprise, running toward the big one. He reached out as he spun away in an attempt to escape, giving me his back. I hooked my arm around his stomach, grasping and using him to shift my weight. He stumbled as I got my legs around his neck, clasping him tightly and switching my weight to his other side to throw him off balance. Holding his head firmly between my knees, I used my legs to pull him forward and flip him over, slamming his back to the ground beneath me.

He groaned as I vaulted to my feet, stalking forward to go for the other male witch who held up both hands as if he wasn't a threat. As if he hadn't seen a woman in a moment of weakness and decided to use it against her.

I had no tolerance for bullies.

I crept forward, crossing over the discarded witches I'd left on the ground before me. Summoning the magic that existed just at the edge of my fingertips, I called to the dead within the soil below us.

The earth shook, the ground splitting as the witches who had dared to lay their hands upon me scrambled for their feet. The boned hands of the Madizza and Bray witches emerged from the earth, crawling out of the dirt and righting their bones to stand tall.

Making my way back to the school, I didn't speak a word as the dead descended on those who had wronged me, and I certainly didn't watch as they tore them into pieces.

The sounds were detailed enough.

CHAPTER 42

WILLOW

---