The Cursed and the Broken (The Cursed Blood Book 1) by Chloe Hodge

Author:Chloe Hodge [Hodge, Chloe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

Since saying goodbye to the sun, I’d felt on edge, skin crawling and stomach curdling with nerves. Creatures had skittered in the undergrowth, tracking our progress, but not once were we approached. I’d been thankful for that, at least.

Dante had been alert all day, as had the guards flanking us. Both András and himself had drifted close by, their hands settled on the pommels of their swords, eyes always watching the foliage.

We’d seen no sign of the corruption; the skin of the trees were marked only with the scars of time and the weariness of a life lived without sunshine. The canopies high above would feel its kiss, of course, but down here where dangerous things stalked our steps, we were without a guiding light.

I’d never ventured so far into the sprawling undergrowth. Here, I’d lost all perception of time and place. The woods were so dark, the party had lit torches to light the way. Many times I thought we’d surely lose our way, and yet the faintest glimmer of magic ensnared my senses. The scent of it lingered like incense, climbing up my nose.

Witch magic. Old magic. I’d been wondering for some time how the táltosok picked their way through the woods without a path to follow, but I realised they did have a marker—a magical one. Closing my eyes, I reached out to the tender thread of magic, twitching my fingers gently to test its friendliness.

The spool unravelled cheerfully, perhaps sensing a fellow witch. When I opened my eyes, a faint dusting of gold twined through the foliage, its glitter beckoning as if to say, “You can trust me. Here I am.”

András’s green eyes sparkled as he fixed me with a cocky smile. “Took you long enough.”

I smirked and rolled my eyes. “Excuse me for thinking you lot hadn’t the skill to conjure a wayfinder spell.”

“You wound me,” he said with a hand over his heart. “But you’re not wrong. A táltos doesn’t have the ability for such tricks. Our shamanistic ways appeal to the spirits of the dead and to aid in healing practices. We can harness these spirits to do our bidding, not unlike necromancy, but we always send those souls back to the Under World. In return for our trespass, we serve with healing magic. There must always be a balance to nature. The World Tree demands it.”

Witches and táltosok were among the few who still believed in the World Tree. As the Roman Empire converged upon the Kingdom of Hungary and their churches began to sprout over our earth, our beliefs were quickly dying. Christianity was the new religion and our gods were scorned as our houses of worship were toppled, one by one.

But I still believed. Magic was too great a gift to be ignored, and such gifts were given by none other than the gods themselves.

Chewing on my lip, I whispered, “If the cultists continue to upset the balance, what do you suppose will happen?”

András ran a hand through his hair, grimacing.

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