Page 54 of Torn Ivy
Flowers burst from her skin, blooming and dying in rapid succession as I stare at her in horror. “Imagine it, little catalyst. A world without end. Pure, eternal life. No more loss, no more grief, no more endings.”
“That’s not life,” I argue, feeling the wrongness of it in my bones. “That’s stagnation. Without death, nothing truly lives. It just exists.”
“Indeed.” Life moves closer, and reality warps around her. The air vibrates, thick with spores and microscopic life that shouldn’t be visible to the naked eye. “But you’re thinking too small. This isn’t about preserving individual lives. It’s about transforming existence itself. Making it more.”
As if to demonstrate, she touches a nearby plant. It grows rapidly, becoming something impossible - a hybrid of flesh and flower that writhes with unnatural vitality. Veins pound beneath translucent petals, and what might be eyes blink wetly from within its core.
“This is what you want?” I ask, horrified. “To turn everything into these abominations?”
Tate grips my fingers tightly, his touch grounding me even as our combined magick makes reality fluctuate more violently. I can feel him trying to anchor me, but Life’s presence corrupts the connection, turning our usual harmony into something wild and unstable.
“I want to fulfil the potential of all living things,” she says, her voice taking on the edge of madness. Flowers burst from her mouth with each word, blooming and withering between syllables. It’s horrific to watch, but I can’t look away. “To freethem from the arbitrary constraints of mortality. And you, my perfectly crafted vessel, are going to help me do it.”
“She’s not helping anyone,” Tate growls, his magick wrapping itself protectively around me. But the moment it touches Life’s power, it transforms, black energy sprouting tiny buds of chaotic growth.
Life laughs, and the sound makes reality shiver as Tate stumbles back. “Oh, sweet anchor. You’re already helping. Every time you try to stabilise her power, you create new pathways for expansion. New possibilities for growth.”
My power surges in response to her words, but not in agreement. The chaos magick that flows through me recoils from her touch, recognising the fundamental wrongness of her vision. Where our energies meet, reality itself seems to buckle.
“That’s why Death chose me,” I mutter, pieces clicking into place as Tate’s grip on my hand tightens. “Not because he wanted a successor, but because he needed someone who could stand against this.”
Life’s laugh this time is like breaking glass, and the flowers burst around us, their petals falling like rain. But they are wrong somehow. They are too symmetrical, too perfect, and lack the beautiful flaws that make natural things real.
“Death didn’t choose you, child. I did. Millennia ago, when I began crafting what would become the Hammond line. Death merely played his part, thinking he was grooming his own successor.”
The room continues to transform, with walls becoming living tissue that hums with sickening vitality. Vines burst through the floor, growing, dying, and regrowing in endless cycles. Each iteration becomes more twisted and wrong. Life’s corporeal presence corrupts the natural order.
“You’re insane,” Bram hisses, his Fae magick recoiling from the twisted life force filling the room. His shadows try toprovide cover, but wherever they touch Life’s power, they sprout grotesque luminescent fungi.
“Natural.” Life’s beauty twists into something terrible. Her perfect features become too perfect, too alive, cells visibly multiplying and dying across her skin. “I am nature. I am life itself, and I am tired of sharing power with Death. Tired of watching my creations wither and die when they could flourish eternally.” Life’s smile turns enigmatic as reality shudders around us. “You’ll understand soon enough,” she says, her form beginning to blur at the edges. “After all, that’s what evolution is really about.”
25
IVY
Before any ofus can respond, she simply... unmakes herself. That’s the only word to describe it. There’s no flash of light, no dramatic exit - she just stops being, leaving behind an absence that feels more substantial than her presence. The twisted vegetation remains, though, with an unsettling vitality that gives me the heebies.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Torin mutters, but his voice sounds strained. The overwhelming life force has taken its toll on his vampire nature.
“Are you okay, vamp-boy?” I ask, still staring at the space where Life had been. My advanced power still crackles beneath my skin. But something’s different now. The chaos feels purposeful, somehow, like it’s trying to tell me something I should have realised ages ago.
“Yeah,” he croaks, looking paler than usual.
“Ivy?” Tate’s hand is still wrapped around mine, his touch steadying despite the way our combined magick makes reality ripple. “What are you thinking?”
“Death,” I say slowly, pieces clicking into place like a puzzle solving itself. “We’ve been looking at this all wrong. He’s not the villain in this story.”
Bram frowns, his shadows finally settling now that Life’s presence has faded. “What do you mean?”
“Think about it,” I say, as understanding floods through me. “Why would Death choose a vessel that could potentially destroy him? Why orchestrate my adaptation if it meant giving Life the perfect weapon against him?”
“Unless,” Tate says, “that wasn’t the plan at all.”
“Exactly. He wasn’t grooming me to destroy or replace him. He was preparing me to maintain balance. To fight against Life taking over. All this time, everyone’s been talking about—insert groan at his blasted word—evolutionlike it’s about becoming more powerful. But what if it’s about becoming more balanced?”
The chaos inside me responds to my realisation, creating a display that looks like a double helix in the air - one strand dark as Death, one bright as Life, with my dark purple energy weaving between them erratically.
“The Hammond line wasn’t engineered to destroy Death,” Tate says thoughtfully, his magick reaching out to stabilise the pattern I’ve created. “It was designed to stand between Life and Death. To maintain the natural order.”
