Page 112 of Spirit Storm

And still, the wave of demons doesn't slow.

I'm burning through magic at a rate that I can feel in my bones now. It's a deep structural fatigue that has nothing to do with muscles and everything to do with the part of me that feeds power to my affinity.

My spirit magic is running low.

My atmospheric magic is still there, but is pulling hard on something central. I swipe at the warmth on my face, and my arm comes back smeared with blood.

When did that happen?

A claw finds my side, and I hiss, spinning toward the darkness that surrounds me. I don't see the demon that hooked me, but it tore through the fabric of my shirt and has opened a hot line across my left ribs.

I force down the pain, but the world tilts sideways. I plant my feet and don't fall, but the damage is done.

"Poppy." Wylder's voice is close.

"I'm good."

"You're not."

"Fine, I’m not, but I'm still standing."

He steps into my periphery, covered in dirt, and with a cut above his eye. He pulls me against his chest and slides a hand through the tattered remains of my shirt. A rush of warm, healing energy spreads from the palm he presses flat against my ribs, and my eyes roll closed.

The relief is incredible.

Not that we have time for me to be drifting away during a healing.

I open my eyes again and startle at the open doorway. For the first time since this battle began, Tharuzel isn't blocking the door. "Asher, get the wounded to the passageway."

Tharuzel stomps over the debris of what used to be the altar table with an unhurried ease, and the demons between us part like curtains. The space he occupies is practically its own weather system—dark, hollow, and with the air hanging heavy and reeking of death and rot.

The rune script under his skin pulses hot red, the names of the stolen dead shifting in slow procession across the blackened leather of his arms.

The vertical mouth opens.

"You will burn, little witch." The chorus of stolen voices is almost gentle. "Every last one of you."

Dae-Jung is still fighting, but the light around his hands has gone dim with exhaustion. Freya can barely hold her arms up. Sebastian can barely see for all the blood in his eyes. And I don't even know where the others are.

I told Asher to move the injured out. Maybe we're all that's left.

At least the shield Asher placed over the rune circle is still in place.

At least Tharuzel can't⁠—

The demon nightmare throws out his freakishly long arms and hammers his clawed fists at the wall along the roofline.

The chamber ceiling groans, and chunks of stone drop, smashing on the floor. Dust and debris rain steadily from the damage, and then he punches through the holes above the rune circle and starts heaving.

"That fucker be crazy," Asher says. "Is this a demon tantrum?"

My mind tries to piece together what's happening, and then my stomach drops. "No. He can't get to the rune circle, so he's going to pull the whole wall down."

"But that will bring down the entire cave!" Asher's words are swallowed by a thunderous crack of stone as Tharuzel not only brings down the rune circle wall, but the ceiling of the chamber.

Panic grips me as I launch to grab Wylder at the same time Asher grabs for me.

The three of us crash to the floor as the world goes dark…