Page 82 of Spirit Storm

I go still. The key?

The words spoken by The Nine come back to me in a panicked rush.

“The key must be separated from the stones. If the secret of its importance is discovered⁠—"

Fucking hell. Here we’ve been focused on securing the lockstones, but he already knows about the key.

"Why are you so surprised?" He sounds almost disappointed. "I am a supreme being, Poppy. Of course, I know about every aspect of a ritual that bound my master. Especially the one person the Nine used to secure the lockstone prison."

My blood runs cold.

No, no, no… "You know who the key was? From the original ritual?"

"I’ve known from the beginning. My master was there, after all." Satisfaction saturates the words as my stomach sinks. "I simply waited for the right moment to free myself from purgatory once I was able to secure the key."

“Well, we’ll figure out who it is and make sure that doesn’t happen.”

He laughs again. “Oh, little witch, it’s much too late for that. The moment I marked the family line, I had my in. The moment you signed my blood contract, I won.”

What? No. How could… I can’t think.

“No, that’s not possible. My family is descended from The Nine."

"Why can’t both things be true? You are descended from The Nine and your ancestor was the Key to it all.”

The cave tilts, and I drop to my knees.

The Key to it all? Not just a descendant. My ancestor was a spirit witch who—what did they do? I still don’t know enough about what happened in that ritual centuries ago to figure out how to stop this.

"Why do you think I marked your bloodline? I tried to secure your mother, but was foiled. Still, I made my claim and then, all I had to do was wait for one of you girls to come into your power."

No. This can’t be happening. I can’t be the key.

I won’t be. I wrench back, throwing everything I have against him, slamming inward through the bond and driving my will forward like a battering ram.

He barely rocks. He registers my effort the way a mountain would register the impact of a thrown stone.

I need to get him out of me.

I need to fight my way back to reality.

I'm fighting with everything I have. My magic surges, but it’s uncoordinated, wild, panic-bright. The wolf circles closer. My body no longer obeys my will.

“I won’t help you.”

"You will… simply by being who you are. You are the anchor, Poppy, and the two of us have been building toward this for months."

He takes control of my hands and they raise. Spirit magic answers the call and rises through me. It’s mine but not directed by me. It builds in my chest and channels through my palms, aimed straight upward at the cave ceiling.

His demon magic braids itself into mine, entwining the ancient darkness he commands with my affinity until the combined force of it punches upward through solid rock.

I scream. My cries echo off the stone walls and tear at my throat, but I can't feel my body anymore.

Stop stop stop stop⁠—

I claw for any handhold in the bond. Any crack in his control. The magic he’s creating explodes through me. It’s too much, It’s all wrong.

His will is burning through my affinity like a glut of power. I'm drowning in it, still screaming, as the wolf sits at my feet and smiles like it's won.