Page 77 of Spirit Storm

Asher shrugs. “You can be an honorary member of the Life and Death Brigade. We’re an inclusive organization, and if you host the odd meeting, you’re in.”

I blink as Clara and Izzy cheer and Rowan laughs. Really, why do they encourage him?

Khylie rocks back on her heels and claps. “Awesome. I love that. And to prove my value as a new member, I’ll start by showing you something on the property that is older than the Order’s presence on the island."

“Perfect. Lead the way.”

“It’s been in the care of my family for centuries, so when the Order first approached us about establishing a chapter here, they bought up all the surrounding land to secure it.”

She takes us back through the compound, past administrative offices and training rooms, until we reach a door that doesn't match the others.

It’s much older. A bleached, weathered wood instead of painted panels.

Khylie presses her palm flat against the surface. Magic hums in the air and carries her unique signature of salt and sun.

The door swings open on a narrow passage descending into darkness. "The stairs are ancient. Watch your step."

We follow her down.

The passage twists, carved from limestone that grows damp and cool as we descend. Soft light begins to filter into the darkness ahead. It’s not torchlight or electric, but something else. Something from the natural world.

The stairs open into a cavern, and when we step inside, I stop breathing.

Turquoise light pours through gaps in the limestone ceiling, illuminating a space that is both ancient and alive. The cavern opens to an arching cave on one side, the waves of the sea lapping against the sand floor.

Carvings cover the walls, symbols and script I recognize as similar to the ones from Ireland, but these are cleaner, maintained, loved.

Shelves carved into the rock hold journals bound in leather and cloth, some so old that the spines have faded to nothing. Relics rest on stone pedestals: bowls, blades, and things I can't identify but feel the power radiating from.

And on the far wall, lit by a shaft of light that seems to know exactly where to fall—a lockstone.

"Holy shit," Asher whispers.

"Yeah." Khylie grins. "It's something, right?"

Clara moves closer to the carvings, her fingers hovering over the symbols.

A wave of nausea hits as flashbacks of Ireland’s disaster strikes. I hold out my hand. “Don’t touch anything.”

Clara nods. “Sorry. It’s just… the water and the chamber and the ancient power. It’s incredible."

"This lockstone has been the responsibility of my family for generations." Khylie's voice carries pride and reverence. "We've protected it, reinforced it, and kept it strong."

I turn to her. "Reinforced it? You've actually been maintaining the lockstone?"

"Of course." She blinks at me like that's obvious. "With the salt in the air, it's vital work."

My chest tightens. "The Irish lockstone wasn't being reinforced. It looked abandoned and forgotten."

Khylie's expression shifts. "Wait, what?"

I move closer to the lockstone, studying the carved symbols glowing with turquoise light. "Maybe that's why Tharuzel went there first. Because it was already weak and the protections hadn’t been reinforced."

Khylie presses a hand to her mouth. "I had no idea. I’ve spoken to Freya a few times when she’s had research questions, but the topic of reinforcing never came up. I just assumed her family was acting as custodians to their lockstone. I mean, it seemed obvious."

"From what we’ve learned, The Nine may have been a little too secretive about the locations and care of the lockstones. It seems to have left the descendants unprepared and in the dark about some of the important details.”

“Like how to repair it,” Wylder says.