Page 60 of Wild Ivy
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.
31
TORIN
The forest isalive in a way that makes my new chaos magick feel like a child’s sparkler compared to a supernova. It pulses and breathes around us, testing our defences and probing for weaknesses. I can feel it pressing against my mental shields, trying to find a way in.
“Stop,” Ivy suddenly murmurs, throwing out an arm to halt our progress. Ahead of us, the path splits into three identical routes, each disappearing into impenetrable darkness.
“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” Tate mutters.
I reach out with my magick, trying to sense which path might be safest, but the forest’s energy interferes, sending feedback that makes my head throb. “I can’t get a read on any of them.”
“Look,” Bram points to where moss grows on the trees. “It’s different on each path.”
He’s right. The left path’s trees are covered in phosphorescent blue moss that pulses like a heartbeat. The middle path’s moss glows a deep, bloody red. The right path’s moss is pure white, almost painfully bright.
“Red for blood, white for bone, blue for soul,” I recite.
“Huh?” Bram mutters.
I shake my head. “The candles that burn. It’s an old vampire coven thing.”
“Nicely done,” Tate says, slapping me on the back.
Ivy nods slowly. “Blue. We take the blue path.”
“Are you sure?” Tate asks, eyeing the pulsing moss warily.
“No,” she admits. “But it’s left,andI think... I think the forest is trying to help. In its own way.”
“Well, only one way to find out,” I state and lead the way,
We’re barely fifty feet down the blue path when I hear it - my mother’s voice, calling my name. I freeze, knowing it can’t be real. I fucking hope, anyway.
“Torin?” Ivy squeezes my hand. “What do you hear?”
“Nothing,” I lie, forcing myself forward. “Just the wind.”
“Whatever you’re hearing, it’s the forest using your fears against you.”
“It’s my mum. She’s calling to me,” I admit, grudgingly.
“She’s not here,” Ivy says, looking around.
“Can you be so sure? She is Life’s minion.”
Ivy’s eyes narrow as my mother’s voice echoes through the trees again.
“Can you hear it this time?” I ask.
She nods. “Ignore it. Your mother isn’t here. She wouldn’t get her expensive shoes muddy in the forest.” She smirks to try to lighten the mood, and it works.
