30. Ivy
30
IVY
I approach Lila’s bedside slowly, my heart heavy with guilt. She looks so fragile lying there, her skin almost translucent, and dark circles under her eyes, making her look older than she is. The Professor’s healing magick pulses steadily around her, but he steps back to give me space, sensing I need this moment.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, taking her hand. It’s cold, too cold, but at least it’s solid now. No more flickering between realities. “I should have realised sooner that it wasn’t you.”
My voice breaks. Behind me, I feel Bram’s presence, steady and supportive, but he doesn’t interrupt. None of them do.
“You didn’t deserve any of this,” I continue, squeezing her hand gently. “Being used as her puppet, being trapped in your own body while she... while she used you to hurt people. To hurt me.” I swallow hard. “It’s all my fault.”
Lila’s chest rises and falls steadily, but she shows no sign of waking.
“We’re going to find her,” I promise fiercely. “We’re going to end her, and then you can finally be free. You can heal without her poison lingering in your system.”
I feel Tate shift behind me. “Ivy,” he says gently. “We need to move. If Life’s heading somewhere specific...”
“I know.” I straighten up, but don’t let go of Lila’s hand just yet. “Just... keep her safe?” I look between the Professor and Vex. “Both of you. Please.”
“With our lives,” the Professor promises.
“Thank you, Professor…?”
“Blackthorn. Headmaster of MistHallow Academy. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier, time was of the essence.”
“Professor Blackthorn. I’m Ivy Hammond.”
“I know,” he says with a coy smile that widens my eyes. I glance at Vex, who snickers.
“Not me. You are legendary, little shifter.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, my cheeks heating up when Blackthorn clears his throat, giving me a stern stare.
“Any idea which direction she went?” Torin asks Tate as I finally step back from the bed.
Blackthorn frowns. “Given the magickal disturbances I’ve been monitoring, she’s probably heading north of here.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
“There are many things that could possibly draw her attention, but only one thing that fits this particular situation.”
“What is it?” Bram asks.
“The Hollowed Grounds. Ancient ruins from before the Great Split. Temples, ritual sites, places where the veil between realities was deliberately weakened. The magick there is unstable at best, despite being protected.”
“That sounds exactly like somewhere Life would go,” I say, exchanging worried looks with the others. “How far?”
“A few miles through the forest,” Blackthorn answers. “But it’s not a journey to be taken lightly. The paths are treacherous, and the closer you get to the ruins, the more unpredictable reality becomes. The forest around the academy is… how can I put this succinctly?”
“Batshit crazy,” Vex chimes in with a grin.
Blackthorn glares at him. “That’s not quite how I would have phrased it, but yes. We can go with batshit crazy.”
“Do you mean that in the sentient sense?” I venture, with a worried frown.
“Not exactly sentient,” Blackthorn says.
“Oh, completely sentient,” Vex says at the same time.
Blackthorn gives him an exasperated sigh. “It’s more like reality becomes fluid. The forest responds to your thoughts and your fears. It’s why we’ve never been able to map it properly, despite many efforts. The paths shift, some landmarks move, and time...” He pauses, retrieving what looks like an ancient compass from thin air. “Time can sometimes behave differently there.”
“Differently how?” Torin asks.
“How often is sometimes?” I add.
“Some times,” he says with a shrug. “Hours can pass like minutes, or minutes like days. The deeper you go, the more unstable it becomes.” Blackthorn hands me the compass. It’s warm to the touch, humming with old magick. “This is attuned to the energy fluctuations. It won’t show you true north - it’ll guide you toward the strongest concentration of power.”
“Which is where Life will be heading,” I finish, watching the needle spin erratically before settling on me. I shake it, and it does the same. Frustrated, I hand it to Tate. He looks at it and then at me.
Blackthorn takes it from him and shakes it. With narrowed eyes, he purses his lips. “Hmm, seems this is useless in your presence unless you are moonlighting as an ancient temple, Miss Hammond.”
“Not that I know of,” I mutter, my cheeks red hot.
“You will have to follow your instincts. When you get to the treeline on this side of campus,” He gestures firmly. “Turn left.”
“Left. Got it.”
“Remember, nothing you see in those woods can be trusted completely. The forest has a way of getting inside your head. Making you see what you fear most, or what you desire most. Sometimes both at once.”
“Wonderful,” Bram mutters. “Just what we needed right now.”
“Stay together,” Blackthorn warns. “The forest tries to separate groups. Once you’re alone...” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to.
“We don’t have a choice. Life’s already got a head start.”
“Be careful,” Blackthorn says softly. “And, Miss Hammond. Whatever you see in there, remember why you’re going. Hold on to that.”
I nod as we head out into the sudden darkness of night.
I don’t question it as we hurry across the campus grounds. The moon hangs low and heavy above us, casting long shadows that seem to move independently of their sources. As we near the tree line, the air grows thick with magick - old magick, the kind that settles in your bones and makes your teeth ache.
“Left,” I murmur, remembering Blackthorn’s instructions. The path curves away from the academy, disappearing into darkness so complete it seems solid.
Bram grunts. “I don’t like this. The shadows here are wrong. They don’t respond properly.”
“Define properly,” Torin says suspiciously.
“They’re not just absence of light,” Bram explains, frustration clear in his voice. “They’re something else. Something older.”
A branch snaps somewhere in the darkness, making us all jump. When I look back, MistHallow’s lights are already dim, as if we’ve walked miles instead of yards. The forest seems to press in around us, branches reaching like grasping fingers.
“Everyone stay close,” I say, fighting down my rising unease. “And maybe we should...” I trail off, realising Tate isn’t beside me anymore. “Tate?”
“Here,” his voice comes from behind me. But when I turn, he’s standing several feet away, though I hadn’t heard him move. “I was right next to you a second ago.”
“It’s starting already,” Torin says grimly. “The forest is trying to separate us.”
“Probably because one or all of us is thinking it. We are foreigners here, remember? We are guests. We respect the nature, the forest itself and we respect the hallowed grounds on which MistHallow rests and which we walk. This isn’t Thornfield anymore, guys. This is the real deal, and we treat it accordingly,” I say firmly, already knowing that as soon as this is over with, I’m speaking to Blackthorn about a transfer. I want to be here. The energy of this place is complementary to what is swirling inside me. I have to be here. There are no two ways about it. I just hope the guys will be okay with a move, too. But I think they will be just fine.
“Got it,” Tate murmurs. “Sorry, that was probably me.”
“And me,” Bram murmurs.
Torin holds his hand up.
“Clear your minds,” I instruct as the path ahead shifts and wavers, but I force myself to focus on what’s real and the reason we’re here.
“We’re here for Lila.”
The forest whispers back, a sound almost like laughter, and I gulp when the chill descends, touching me down to my soul.