Chapter 8 #2
Freya is still staring, her mouth hanging open. “Blood-bound to the demon. How the feck did that happen?”
“Long story, actually. I kind of inherited it after my mom fought Tharuzel back to the Hell Realm five years ago. He marked my bloodline, so one of us needed to take the hit. It was either me or my younger sisters, so I volunteered as tribute.”
They both stare at me as if that’s not quite computing. Then Henrik shakes his head. “Did you say you see his actions through your bond?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“When she’s sleeping,” Asher adds. “Because her mental shields aren’t as strong then.”
Well, that’s what Tanner thinks, and it’s plausible, so we’ll go with it.
Freya leans forward in the seat opposite me. “And you came here because…”
“Because when I told Garrison what I saw, he told me to pack a bag and be ready to come help.”
“Garrison,” she repeats.
“Yeah… Garrison Stonehoof.”
She looks blank.
“Seven-foot-tall rift minotaur? Badass bison guy with a shaggy brown mane and long horns?”
Still nothing.
“High Chancellor of the Order of the Arcane? Any of this sounding familiar?”
She blinks and seems to shake herself out of whatever mental musings had taken her captive. “I’m aware of who Chancellor Stonehoof is, love. I guess I was just confused about you telling him about a dream you had and him sending you here.”
I shrug. “He’s the boss, right?”
She looks at Henrik and nods. “Aye, he is. All right, let’s start there. Tell me what you’ve seen and what you already know.”
And so, I do. I tell her and Henrik first about the dream where Tharuzel was in the ritual chamber of the Ireland cave, and how triumphant he felt when that lockstone broke.
Then, I recount the power surge that hit me when the lockstone in Denmark broke. And how weird it was because I wasn’t even asleep at the time.
Henrik raps his fingertips on the surface of the table. "My chapter has maintained the lands of the lockstone for centuries. I regret to say we were sorely unprepared for your demon."
I scrunch up my nose. “He’s not my demon, but I hear what you’re saying. It’s hard to prepare for a monster like Tharuzel.”
His smile disappeared. “It is.”
I look between the two of them, but they both seem to be stuck in their heads. “So, I feel like I’ve done all the talking. When you first came in the room, you said, ‘two more Descendants of the Nine’. What did that mean?”
Freya leans to the side and pulls a folder from her backpack.
She sets it on the table, flips open the front cover, and starts setting out glossy photos of the ritual site I saw in my dream.
“The broken lockstones are part of a warding array that was put in place centuries ago by nine spirit witches. "
"The Nine," Henrik says.
"They weren't merely powerful witches," Freya adds. "They were the strongest spirit practitioners of their time. I’ve spent most of my life studying them and what they accomplished.”
“Because you’re a descendant,” I guessed.
“I am, and I was raised hearing the stories. It was one of the reasons the Order recruited me. I possessed a body of knowledge that they couldn’t get anywhere else. I’ve spent decades of my career working out what is family mythology and what can be considered historical record.”
“Perfect, then let’s pretend that I know nothing about being a Descendant of the Nine, and you can fill in the blanks.”
Freya folds her hands together in front of herself and smiles.
“Approximately nine-hundred years ago, nine spirit witches bound an ancient being into an ethereal prison. They created a powerful array of lockstones which they hid within the caverns and caves of the time, and bound the creature. As long as the stones hold, the containment stands.”
“What kind of creature?” Wylder asks.
“That, I genuinely don’t know.” Freya’s expression doesn’t change, but something behind it tightens. “There are many details that didn’t survive the test of time. The stories describe it in terms of scale, power, and what it did, but not what it was.”
Helpful, but also not.
“Do you know how many lockstones there are?” Orion asks.
“Not definitively, no. I believe there could be nine and that each witch within the ritual imbued part of the array.”
“But you’re not sure,” Asher says.
“No.”
Asher pegs me with a look, and I can read his thoughts as clearly as if we shared telepathy. “So decades of her life and she really knows nothing.”
Thankfully, Freya can’t read Asher’s expressions.
“There is also mention of a key,” she continues.
“I’ve never been able to figure out if that involved a physical key, or a key event, or potion, or spell, or if it could be entirely metaphorical.
But all records I’ve found agree that the lockstones weren’t enough.
Only when they found the ‘key’ were they able to successfully establish the containment array. ”
Oh, goody. More we don’t know.
Wylder laces his fingers with mine under the table. "You said Poppy is a Descendant of the Nine. How can you be so sure? You walked in and took one look at her.”
“It’s the eyes.” Henrik taps a finger against his own cheek. “The Nine each bound a fragment of their own spirit into the array, and that left its mark."
I stared at the two of them and let that sink in. “Okay, so we're descendants of what came before. What does that mean now that Tharuzel is breaking the lockstones?"
Freya meets my gaze and smiles. “It means we’re the only people who can restore the lockstones and keep whatever is locked away contained.”
“Oh, good. No pressure then. And here I was worried it was going to be something bad.”