33. Ivy
33
IVY
The power builds inside me like a tsunami, feeding off every repressed emotion, every time I’ve held back. The guys run, and that’s good. That’s right. Because what’s coming isn’t precise or controlled, or safe.
The shadows wearing our faces seem to sense it. They start to retreat, but it’s too late.
I throw my head back and scream, letting everything out at once. The power explodes from me in waves of pure, wild magick. A magick that consists of death and life and rebirth. It tears through the temple chamber like a hurricane, shredding the shadow-copies into nothing, shattering the mirrors that birthed them.
Death’s essence surges forth first. Dark, cold, and absolute. It’s followed immediately by the spark of life, brilliant and warm, twining together with the void’s power. Between them pulses the energy of rebirth, a shifting violent force that binds the others together in perfect, terrible harmony.
The power explodes from me in concentric waves, each one carrying a different aspect of my new nature. The first wave is pure death. It slams into the shadow copies, their false forms crumbling as their stolen life force is stripped away. The second wave carries life’s energy, and where it touches the chamber’s ancient stones, moss and vines burst forth, growing and dying in rapid succession. The third wave ripples with rebirth, transforming everything it touches. The mirrors don’t just shatter, they dissolve and reconstitute themselves as sheets of crystal that reflect all possible realities at once before they too crumble to dust.
Each wave builds on the last, gaining strength as they spiral outward. The temple’s foundation recognises the power of creation and destruction moving through it. The walls respond like a living thing, groaning in either ecstasy or agony. I’m not sure which. Ancient magick stored in the stones releases in a cascade of sparks and shadows.
The cracks across the ceiling are in intricate patterns, almost beautiful in their destruction. Where the cracks meet, chunks of stone rain down, but they dissolve into stardust before they can hit the floor. The dust itself swirls in impossible patterns, dying and being reborn as different forms of matter.
“Holy fucking shit!” I hear Bram swear behind me. “Take cover!”
The power pours out of me, wave after wave, until every false reflection, every shadow-copy, every might-have-been is torn apart and reconstructed and torn apart again. Their screams echo through dimensions as they’re caught in the cycle of death and rebirth, finally fading into nothing as my power cleanses the chamber of their twisted existence.
When the last wave dissipates, the silence is absolute. The destruction is complete, but through the holes I’ve torn in the ceiling, sunlight streams down, bringing with it the promise of renewal. Where the light touches the ruined floor, tiny flowers push through the cracks, blooming and wilting in endless cycles.
I drop to my knees in the centre of what looks like a magickal bomb crater.
“Holy shit,” Tate breathes, picking his way back to me through the debris. “That was terrifyingly impressive.”
I snort, trying to stand, but finding my legs aren’t quite ready to cooperate.
“Spectacular,” Bram says, offering me a hand up. “You okay?”
I take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. “Yeah. I feel like I’m alive for the first time in my life.”
“Unfortunately,” Torin observes, looking around at the destruction. “I think you just redecorated a sacred temple.”
“The temple will heal,” a voice echoes through the chamber. We all spin toward it, powers at the ready. “You, will not.”
Life stands in what used to be the doorway, but she looks different now. More fragmented, like she’s barely holding herself together. Her form flickers between Lila’s appearance and something ancient and terrible.
“Oh, please,” I scoff. “You have no idea what you are up against.”
“You’re too late,” she says. “The ritual has already begun.”
Ritual? What ritual?
The guys and I exchange glances, and a feeling of dread comes over me. This is not good.
“What ritual?” I demand, but even as I ask, I can feel it. There’s a new vibration in the air, a wrongness that makes my teeth ache. The temple’s residual energy is being pulled toward something, like water circling a drain.
Life laughs, the sound distorting as her form continues to flicker between Lila and something else. Something older than time itself. “You thought I came here to hide? To run? Oh no, little Death. I came here because this is where it all began. Where the separation first occurred.”
“The Great Split?” Bram murmurs. “Blackthorn mentioned it.”
“Yes,” Life’s voice echoes unnaturally. “When Life and Death were first divided. When the balance was created.” Her form stabilises briefly, showing something that looks almost human but isn’t. Not quite. “And now I’m going to undo it all.”
The ground beneath our feet trembles. Through the cracks I created, I can see light pulsing deep below, and it’s not the gentle glow of my renewal, but something harsh and sickly.
“You’re dying. This isn’t about controlling death anymore. You’re trying to reset everything. To go back to before the Split.”
“Very good,” she sneers. “You see, if there were no separation, there would be no death. No cycle. Just eternal, unchanging existence.”
“That’s not life,” Tate argues. “That’s stagnation.”
“That’s preservation!” Life shrieks, her form fracturing further. “No more loss! No more endings! No more change!”
“You’re insane,” Torin states flatly. “You’ll destroy everything.”
“I’ll save me !” The temple shudders with her rage. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The ritual is already drawing power from the ley lines. Soon, it will reach critical mass, and then...” She spreads her arms wide, and we can see through them in places, like she’s becoming transparent.
“Actually,” I say, “I think there’s plenty we can do to stop it.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’ve spent your power, little Death. That impressive display of yours saw to that. You have nothing left to fight with.”
I smile, feeling my guys move into position around me. “Wanna bet?” I say, cracking my knuckles. “You clearly aren’t up to speed on what happened when you sent me to the void. Bad move on your part, Lifey. You should’ve stayed in the loop. I’m not just Death anymore. And I’m not alone.”
“The ritual—” she begins.
“Fuck your ritual,” I cut her off. “You want to talk about beginnings? Let me show you mine.”
The battle for existence is about to begin, and this time, I’m ready for it.