Page 43 of Spirit Storm

All right, so now I’m thoroughly conflicted. I’m glad Wylder is where he needs to be, but Asher will be panicked and freaked out when he can’t get back to me.

“So, are we going?” Freya asks.

I shake my head. “No. I can’t. I pinky swore and gave Asher my word. I have to stay right here until he gets back.”

“Are you serious? There’s a major demon breaking lockstones to unleash something even more horrible, and you’re going to waste time sitting a hundred feet from the chamber because you pinky swore that you wouldn’t move?”

I nod. “Yep. That pretty much covers it.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

I shrug. “Maybe to you. But from where I come from and from where I’ve been, giving your word to someone you love trumps everything else. You don’t go back on that. Ever.”

Asher returns quicker than I expect. Apparently, when he couldn't portal straight back, he materialized at the mouth of the cave and made his way back to us in a few dozen mini-portals through the corridors we had already passed through.

When he sees us sitting in the corridor waiting for him, the relief in his gaze is all the reward I need to know I made the right call.

I'm Asher's anchor. If I let him down, it will crack his foundation. I would never do that to him.

"Can't breathe," I gasp, patting his back.

He releases me from the crushing hug and lets out a long breath. "Thank you."

"Thank you, right back. Did you get Wylder help?"

"Yeah, Cormac is taking care of everything back at headquarters."

Good. That's good.

"Can we go now?" Freya pegs us with a look that says quite clearly that we've used up the last of her patience.

I step back from the hug and give Asher's hand a squeeze. "Yeah, let's do this."

Despite all the drama, Freya was right. The chamber is just around the next corridor—a corridor that has been thoroughly mapped out and is deemed safe. So, in a matter of another minute, we're standing at the entrance to the lockstone chamber.

I follow Freya inside, ducking beneath a cluster of root growth to step through the narrow arch. The chamber opens around us and, wow, it's bigger than I expected.

The cave breathes stale, musty air, making it feel all the more ancient. Until two days ago, I would bet this space hadn’t been stirred for centuries.

A wave of Freya's hand lights a trough that runs along the ceiling line. Flames catch fire around the edge of the chamber in a whoosh, the wildfire spreading until the entire space is lit.

The sudden burst of illumination catches the walls, mineral deposits glittering across the face of the stone like fairy lights. The floor isn't the same stone and grit of the tunnel corridors. It's packed earth, flat and smooth in a way that suggests it is intentional.

And there, on the far wall, is the circle I saw in my dream.

My stomach drops.

It's enormous. At least fifteen feet across, carved deep into the stone, the lines clean despite their age. Runes fill the interior circle, dense and overlapping, spiraling outward from a central point.

They don't glow. They don't pulse or hum or do anything the magical artifact did when I saw it last. That’s a bad sign. The absence of light means the lockstone has been drained of the magic that fed it for the past centuries.

"Is this what you saw, Pop-Tart?" Orion asks.

I move to stand in front of the ritual circle and center myself. "Yeah, this is where Tharuzel stood. The outer ring of runes was glowing then, but this is definitely the place."

I reach forward to trace the carving of the runes, and a small weight lands on my shoulder.

"Absolutely not." S'Nark's words accompany a sharp smack to my cheek.