Chapter 24 Ivy
IVY
Ivy woke with sunlight streaming through her window and the memory of Dorian's hands still warm on her skin. The note on her pillow made her smile despite the slight ache of his absence.
Had to check festival security. I’ll see you tonight - D
She pressed the paper to her chest for a moment before folding it carefully and tucking it into her journal as she took the rose, inhaled the perfume and set it in a glass.
She knew it had to be from the arrangement in the hall, but to her, the thought is what made it special.
Last night had changed something fundamental between them, and despite her usual wariness about complications, she found herself looking forward to whatever came next.
The day passed in a pleasant blur of preparation and anticipation.
Coffee with Diana at the inn, where the knowing look in the innkeeper's amber eyes suggested she'd picked up on the shift in Ivy's mood.
A brief stop at the apothecary for more of Freya's courage tea, which earned her a warm smile and no questions asked.
"Ready for tonight?" Twyla asked when Ivy stopped by the café for lunch. "You seem different today. More relaxed."
"I feel different."
"Good different?"
"Very good different."
"Mm." Twyla's eyes twinkled with satisfaction. "Funny how a good night's sleep can change everything."
When evening came and the festival lights began to glow, Ivy found herself approaching the stage with confidence instead of the nervous energy that had plagued her recent performances. The crowd was larger than usual, word having spread about the quality of the festival's musical offerings.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Twyla announced from beside the stage, "please welcome back our traveling songstress, Ivy Lane."
The applause was warm and immediate, welcoming her back like an old friend. Ivy settled onto the stool they'd provided and adjusted her guitar, feeling the familiar weight of expectation that no longer felt like pressure.
"Thank you all for coming out tonight," she said into the microphone. "I thought I'd share something special with you. A song about finding home in unexpected places."
She began with gentle fingerpicking, letting the melody build slowly while the crowd settled into listening stillness. This was her element, her gift, her choice. No contracts binding her voice, no one controlling what she could or couldn't sing.
The first verse flowed like water, her voice clear and strong in the evening air. She could see familiar faces in the crowd: Diana near the stage, Moira and Lucien toward the back, even Maeve leaning against a tree with her arms crossed in casual attention.
No sign of Dorian yet, but she wasn't worried. He'd be along when his security checks were finished.
The chorus began to build, her magic weaving naturally through the melody as it always had when she was truly free. The protective wards she layered into the song felt different tonight, stronger somehow, as if her growing connection to Hollow Oak had amplified her natural abilities.
Then, right as everything felt right, nothing could have gone worse.
Mid-note, mid-breath, her voice simply stopped. Not faded, not cracked, but vanished as if someone had reached into her throat and stolen the sound itself. The guitar continued for a few discordant notes before she realized what was happening and stopped playing entirely.
The silence stretched impossibly long while Ivy tried desperately to make any sound at all. Her throat burned with the effort, but nothing emerged. Not even a whisper.
"Ivy?" Twyla's voice carried concern and growing alarm. "Are you alright?"
She tried to answer and couldn't. Tried to hum, to breathe audibly, to make any sound that would prove her voice still existed. Nothing.
The crowd began to murmur with confusion and worry. Someone called out asking if she needed water. Others shifted uncomfortably as they sensed something was wrong beyond a simple case of stage nerves.
As she tried to force herself to stay calm, Ivy caught sight of him.
Sebastian stood at the very edge of the festival grounds, just visible in the shadows between two vendor stalls. Even at a distance, she could see his satisfied smile, the way he held one hand casually at his side with fingers positioned in what she now recognized as a casting gesture.
A silence sigil. The kind of magic that could steal a voice from across a crowded square, leaving its victim mute and helpless while everyone watched.
Magic stained the air around the stage like oil on water, visible to anyone with the sight to see it. The wrongness of it made several people in the crowd step back instinctively, though they probably couldn't have said why.
Ivy tried once more to speak, to sing, to make any sound that would prove she wasn't broken. Her throat burned, and panic began to claw at her chest as the familiar helplessness of Sebastian's control washed over her.
She was twelve again, learning that her voice could disappear at someone else's whim. Twenty-two and watching Sebastian demonstrate his power over her for the first time. Every age she'd ever been when someone had taken her choice away.
The guitar slipped from her nerveless fingers, clattering against the stage with a discord that seemed to echo her internal chaos. She couldn't do this. Couldn't sit here voiceless while everyone stared, while Sebastian proved his ownership in the most public way possible.
She had to get away. Had to hide before the shame of her helplessness overwhelmed what little composure she had left.
Ivy stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the microphone stand in her haste. Without a word—because she had no words left to give—she fled the stage, pushing through the confused crowd toward the safety of shadows where no one could see her fall apart.
Behind her, she could hear Twyla trying to calm the audience, making excuses about technical difficulties and promising a return to regularly scheduled programming. But Ivy barely heard any of it over the roar of old panic flooding her system.
Sebastian had found her. Had silenced her in front of every person who mattered. Had proven, once again, that no matter how far she ran or how safe she felt, he could reach out and take away the thing that made her who she was.
Her voice. Her choice. Her freedom.
All of it, gone with a gesture.