Angels Grave

~ Chapter 18 ~

The shock of seeing Amren and Feyre drop into the middle of the foyer - sopping wet - wore off in a few seconds. Zhysa was resting on a chair in the dining room when a loud thump came and soon after, shocked yelling. She just sighed, bringing up her body to inspect the loud faeries that had all moved into the foyer.

Turning a corner, she was greeted with a laughing Feyre and Amren – a laugh that bordered on hysterical. Slowly they stood, sand falling everywhere and getting embedded into the carpet. Rhysand clicked his fingers and soon Amren and Feyre were dry, excluding the patch where the box rested.

Zhysa hissed as she took it out and placed it onto the table. It made a thud, everyone recoiling in disgust swearing at the magic coming off in waves. She could feel a pulse coming from the object as if it was pushing up to everyone's defences.

"One last task Feyre. Unlock it please." Rhysand crooked a finger and Feyre slowly walked over, her throat bobbing. Sitting down she dragged the box and placed a hand on it. Zhysa flinched as the wards became sentient, responding to the magic Feyre started to push into it.

Feyre whispered softly, Zhysa assuming it was answers to the boxes questions. Everyone watched in anticipation. Feyre's hand pulsed with all of her magic – pieces of water and heat and light and shadow. She scrunched her brow pushing harder into the item. The wards shuddered but after a few seconds that solidified again. With sweat on her brow, she recoiled gripping her hand as if the box burned her.

"I-I can't do it. It tells m-me that I'm too inexperienced." She stammered. Rhysand sighed, pulling a hand over his face. He looked at Amren. "Don't worry, it's not your fault."

"Do you think I will need to impose Helion for his help, Amren?" Amren didn't answer, continuing to stare at the box with contempt. "I don't know. I can't measure how complex the ward is. I kind of expected Feyre with her limited knowledge of breaker magic not to get it on the first attempt." She stopped muttering but turned to her left, asking Mor what she thought.

All of the faeries – excluding Zhysa – travelled over to the other side of the room, eager to be away from the impending curse.

Zhysa could sense it. What hid underneath all of the harsh words and angry wards. The Cauldron's mark held true, a rumble beneath all of the natural warding. And the reason Feyre could break it. She moved towards it, sitting on the chair with no noise. With a shaky breath, she reached out and touched the repulsive thing.

Hello, heir, It purred. She didn't respond, sending in her magic to analyse it rather than attack.

You're smarter than the last one. So forceful she was. It giggled. Zhysa finally pushed her magic in, that pulsing light – so similar to Helions – one of a curse breakers characteristics. It shuddered, pushing back against her.

Veiled by shadows and light. How paradoxical. Will you read me, heir? Zhysa sent a nod in agreement.

"Not me, but someone will read you." It hissed in delight, loosening the wards. Zhysa pushed the rest through, cleansing the box of its curse and relieving the built-up infected magic in the air.

Spell-cleaver... With the last hiss, the box disintegrated, falling off the skinny table, leaving half of a book, made of dark bronze plates covered in the ancient alphabet. Zhysa sighed and stood walking away from the table. She looked up but froze as everyone's eyes were on her, mouths wide open.

"Well... it's open now." She coughed uncomfortably, moving out of the way.

"Now I know why Helion keeps you," Mor muttered. She sent her a glare and crossed her arms.