20. Torin
20
TORIN
Understanding dawns on Bram’s face. Whatever has been going on with him since he obtained Morrigan’s magick, it finally has a purpose, it seems.
“Bram?” I prompt as he remains still as a statue. “What is it?”
“It’s not just Morrigan’s magick Life is after,” he says slowly, his voice tight with revelation. “It’s where that magick comes from. The source.”
“What do you mean? I thought Morrigan’s magick was the source of the Death power. That’s what she said.”
“No,” Bram says, shaking his head. “Older than that. Morrigan has to get it from somewhere, goddess or not.”
“The balance point,” Blackthorn says, standing abruptly and sending his chair scooting back to hit the wall behind him. “The place where life and death meet. Where wild magick originates.”
“Yes, exactly,” Bram agrees. “Think about it. Morrigan’s power has always been different. Untamed. Because it comes from that intersection.”
I’m not really following, but I nod anyway to make it look like I am. I shoot a quick glance at Tate, and he seems to get it, but then he always had more brains than the rest of us. “And Life trapped Ivy in the void because...”
“Because she thinks that’s where Death’s power is strongest,” Bram’s eyes meet mine, urgent with understanding. “So when she returns, Life can take it from her. She thinks Ivy can absorb it while she’s there and return with god-like powers. Add to that Morrigan’s already god powers and… BOOM!” He makes an explosive gesture with his hands.
“But she’s wrong,” Blackthorn pipes up excitedly. “The void isn’t just Death’s domain. It’s the threshold. The crossing point. Where everything begins and ends.”
“So, you mean it’s Life’s domain as well?” I ask, getting more lost by the second.
“Yes. And she just gave Ivy direct access to it. She’s not just trapped in death’s domain...”
“She’s at the source of all Celtic god power,” Blackthorn finishes, his eyes gleaming.
“Celtic god power?” I ask, now not caring if I sound as thick as two short planks. “There are different sources of power dependent on culture?”
“Yes, obviously,” he says, giving me a look that tells me exactly what he thinks of my dumbarse question.
“Life has no idea what she’s done. She thinks she’s containing Death, but she’s actually given her access to something far more fundamental,” Bram adds, ignoring the sidebar.
“The power to become both,” Tate murmurs. “Life doesn’t understand. She can’t be saved because she’s forgotten what balance means. But Ivy...”
I actually think I get it now and test those waters. “Ivy has lived both sides. She understands the cycle in a way Life never could.”
“Not just lived both sides,” Blackthorn says, pulling an ancient text from his shelf. “She died for it. Was reborn in it. That kind of sacrifice leaves an imprint on the soul that can’t be erased. May I inquire how she died?” he asks, glaring at me.
“Died? She didn’t die. He did.” I point to Tate.
“She must have. To become Death, one has to die…” Blackthorn trails off, eyes narrowed.
“When she was torn apart,” I croak. “She must’ve died.” I glare at Tate. “It’s why you died. Or maybe you died and took her with you. Your fated bond…”
“Yeah,” Tate murmurs. “I think she died and took me with her. It makes more sense.”
“Fuck,” I breathe out and earn myself a sharp glare from Blackthorn.
“Well, now she’s in the one place where that imprint matters most,” Bram adds, his magick sparking around him. “Where the boundaries between life and death are thinnest.”
“But what does that mean for Ivy?” I ask, because that’s all I really care about. “How does this help us get her back?”
Blackthorn’s expression grows serious. “We don’t.”
“The hell we don’t,” I growl, taking a step forward, but Vex’s hand on my arm stops me, and he shakes his head.
“No, he’s right,” Bram says softly. “We can’t get her back because she has to choose to come back. And when she does?—”
“She won’t be the same,” Tate finishes. “Will she?”
“No,” Blackthorn confirms. “The void is changing her, just as it’s meant to. Life thought she was imprisoning Death, but she was actually initiating a transformation that’s been waiting to happen since the moment Ivy first died and came back.”
“You’re saying this was always going to happen? That everything was fate? It was all leading to this?”
A shimmer appears in the corner of the room, and I stare at it, wondering what it is.
“You may proceed,” Blackthorn says in a voice that smacks of authority.
Morrigan appears in the room, and Bram rises and spins, backing away from her. “No! It doesn’t want you.”
“I’m not here for that. You all seem to forget my full title.”
“Goddess of war, fate and death,” I mutter.
“Precisely, young vampire. Fate. You speak of fate, and you are correct. This is all fated to happen.”
“You are working with Life,” I spit out, pointing at her accusingly.
She shakes her head. “I don’t work with anyone. I wanted my powers back. If she thinks she can take them from me, she has another thing coming.”
“You don’t even have them,” I point out. “Bram does.”
Her eyes zero in on him. “Indeed. And he will give them back.”
“No, he won’t,” Bram says, but Blackthorn strides between them and raises his hands.
“We are not here to fight. You are both guests in my house. I suggest you tone it down a notch before you offend that house, and it removes you permanently.”
Morrigan’s lips curve into a wry smile. “Your house has no power over me, Professor. But I’ll respect its boundaries, for now.” She turns her attention back to Bram. “The magick chose you because it needed to evolve. To change, just as Ivy is changing.”
“What do you know about what’s happening to Ivy?” I demand.
“I know that Life’s desperation has blinded her to the truth,” Morrigan says. “The old ways are dying. The separation of powers - Life, Death, even my own dominion over fate - it’s becoming obsolete.”
“Because of what happened when we changed time?” Tate asks.
“That was merely the catalyst,” she replies. “The breaking point that set everything in motion. But this transformation has been coming for centuries. The world is different now. It needs different gods.”
“Gods who understand balance,” Bram says softly, and his magick ripples through the air, curling around its ex-Mistress.
“Yes.” Morrigan’s eyes gleam as she reaches out to touch it. “Which is why my power won’t return to me. It’s found a better vessel. One who understands that balance is not about separation, but integration.”
“Like Ivy,” I say. “She’s not just becoming more powerful. She’s becoming something new entirely.”
“The first of her kind,” Blackthorn agrees. “A being who embodies both life and death. Beginning and end. Creation and destruction.”
“But what about Life?” Tate asks. “If she’s dying...”
Morrigan’s expression hardens. “She sealed her own fate when she chose to cling to power rather than embrace change. The universe has no patience for gods who refuse to evolve.”
“So what do we do?” I ask, feeling distinctly out of my depth. “Just sit here while Ivy transforms into some new kind of god, and Life dies?”
“Yes,” Morrigan states simply.
“No,” Blackthorn contradicts. “We prepare.”
“Prepare for what?” Tate asks.
“For what comes after,” Blackthorn says grimly. “When Life dies, there will be a vacuum of power. Nature abhors a vacuum. If Ivy isn’t ready to step into that role...”
“Everything collapses,” Bram finishes. “The balance between life and death will shatter.”
“Life has no idea what she’s done,” I say, shaking my head. “She thinks she’s just containing Death until she can steal her power.”
“Her ignorance makes her more dangerous,” Morrigan says. “She’s tampering with forces she doesn’t understand, desperate to save herself. She doesn’t realise she’s actually accelerating her own destruction.”
“And Ivy’s transformation,” Tate adds quietly.
“Precisely.” Blackthorn moves to another shelf, pulling down more books. “Which gives us an advantage. Life won’t be preparing for what’s really coming.”
“And what exactly is coming?” I demand, tired of all this cryptic god talk.
Morrigan’s eyes meet mine, ancient and knowing. “The end of the old ways and the beginning of something entirely new. The question is not whether it will happen, but whether the world will survive the transition.”
“And that depends on Ivy,” Bram says softly. “On whether she can become what she needs to be before Life’s death triggers the collapse.”
I clench my fists, hating how helpless I feel. “So we really can’t do anything to help her?”
“We can make sure she has something to come back to,” Tate says firmly. “Make sure we’re ready when she does return.”
“And how exactly do we do that?” I ask.
Blackthorn moves back to his desk, spreading out several ancient texts. “By understanding exactly what’s happening in the void. The necromancers here have been monitoring the changes. The barriers between life and death are becoming more permeable.”
“Meaning?” I prompt, because I’m really getting tired of everyone speaking in riddles.
“Meaning the void isn’t just a place of death anymore. It’s becoming something new. A place of transformation.”
“Like a cosmic crucible,” Tate adds thoughtfully. “Where Ivy is being remade.”
“But into what?” I ask, because that’s the real question, isn’t it?
“Something that encompasses both life and death,” Morrigan says. “A being of balance, not division. Which is why my power won’t return to me. It’s evolving, just as she is.”
“Through Mr Sinclair,” Blackthorn nods. “The magick needed a vessel that understood both sides. A Dark Fae with a connection to death, but also to life through his own transformations.”
“Great,” I mutter. “So we’ve got evolving magick, a transforming void, and Ivy stuck in the middle of it while Life thinks she’s just containing Death until she can steal her power.” I run a hand through my hair in frustration. “What do we actually do about any of this?”
“We prepare the way,” Blackthorn says, tapping one of the ancient texts. “There are rituals, ways to stabilise the transformation. To ensure that when Ivy does emerge, the world is ready to receive what she’s becoming.”
“No more rituals,” I growl.
“And if it’s not?” Tate asks quietly, ignoring me.
The silence that follows is answer enough.