Torn Ivy (Thornfield Supernatural Academy #2)

18. Ivy

18

IVY

The morning after Death’s revelation brings more than just a hangover from information overload. I wake to find my entire body crackling with uncomfortable energy, like I’ve got lightning trapped under my skin.

“Fuck,” I mutter, rolling out of bed. The guys had gone home late last night after we’d discussed Death’s bombshell until we were talked out. Now, standing in front of my mirror, I can see something’s definitely wrong.

Pink energy pulses through my veins, visible beneath my skin like a roadmap of chaos. It’s beautiful in a terrifying sort of way, but the burning sensation that accompanies it is less than pleasant.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I press my hands against my stomach as a wave of nausea hits me. The magick surges, and suddenly, my reflection shows both Ivy and Poison overlaid, like a double exposure photograph.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Grimacing, I grab it, seeing Tate’s name flash up.

“Hey,” I rasp.

“You need to come over,” he says without preamble. “Something’s happening.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” I watch as my hair shifts between blonde and pink without me actively trying to shift. “I’ll be there in ten.”

I throw on clothes, not bothering with anything fancy since my body seems to be having an identity crisis all on its own. The walk across campus to the guys’ house is interesting, to say the least. My power keeps fluctuating, making reality ripple around me. Trees briefly turn crystalline before shifting back, and I swear I can hear colours.

By the time I reach their door, I’m sweating despite the cold morning air. Tate opens it before I can knock, looking as rough as I feel.

“Inside,” he says quickly, pulling me in. “Before someone sees you.”

“What’s wrong with me?” I demand as soon as we’re in the kitchen. Torin and Bram are already there, eyebrows raised at the state of me.

“Fuck,” Bram breathes, his Fae sight obviously picking up something we can’t see. “Your aura is fragmenting.”

“My, what is doing what now?”

“He’s right,” Torin says, moving closer. “It’s like your power is trying to split apart. It’s visible to the naked eye,” he says, shooting Bram with a sidelong glare.

Another wave of nausea hits me, and I grab the kitchen counter for support. The pink energy crackles more intensely, and suddenly, every metal object in the kitchen starts floating.

“Ivy,” Tate says carefully, “I think your—shall we call them identities?—are fighting each other.”

“But Death said they were the same thing,” I protest, watching as the floating cutlery starts spinning in complex patterns. “Just evolved.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Bram suggests. “Evolution isn’t always smooth. Sometimes there’s a conflict between the old and the new.”

A sharp pain shoots through my chest, and I gasp. Looking down, I see that a fork has flown across the room and buried itself deep in my chest.

“Ah,” I gag as I pull it out and see it coated with pink, not red, blood.

The rest of the floating objects crash back down as my knees buckle. Tate catches me before I hit the floor.

“This is bad,” Torin mutters, helping Tate get me to a chair. “Her temperature’s all over the place.”

He’s right. One minute, I’m burning up; the next, I’m freezing. My skin keeps shifting between Ivy and Poison without my control, and the pink energy is becoming more erratic.

“What do we do?” I ask through gritted teeth as another wave of pain hits. “Because this fucking hurts.”

“We need to stabilise her,” Bram says, his Dark Fae magick reaching out tentatively toward mine. Where they touch, there’s a brief moment of relief before the pain returns worse than before.

“Stop,” I gasp. “That makes it worse. It wants to devour it. I can’t?—”

Tate kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his. “Let me try. I’m supposed to be your anchor, right?”

I nod, unable to speak, as another tide of power rips through me. His magick wraps around mine, trying to contain the chaos, but something’s different this time. Instead of helping, it again feels like his power is being consumed by mine.

“Fuck!” Tate yanks his hands away, his skin smoking slightly where we touched. “That’s not working either.”

“No shit,” I manage to say before doubling over as my insides feel like they’re rearranging themselves. “Oh, god, what’s happening to me? Is this the tearing me apart stage? I thought I had more time.”

“No, I don’t think so. Your power is trying to settle,” Bram says, watching me carefully. “The witch side of you and the Fae-type chaos magick aren’t just merging, they’re creating something entirely new. Again.”

“Again?” I grit out. The windows rattle ominously.

He nods. “Evolving, like Death said, but I’m starting to think this was the fine print. It’s continuous.”

“We need help,” Torin says firmly. “This is beyond us.”

“Who?” Tate demands. “Death? The Resistance? We don’t know who to trust.”

Another wave of pain hits, and this time, I scream. Pink energy explodes outward, shattering every window in the house. Reality bends around us, and suddenly, the kitchen is filled with various versions of me. Some Ivy, some Poison, some strange combinations of both.

“Oh, that’s new,” one of my duplicates says before flickering out of existence.

“Focus,” Bram commands, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Ivy, look at me.”

I force my eyes to meet his, trying to ignore the way my duplicates are starting to affect the physical world around us. One of them has turned the refrigerator into a fountain of starlight, and then Aspen shows up, startling the guys into inaction for a second.

“The power isn’t fighting itself,” Bram says intently, the first to come back to his senses. “It’s fighting you. You’re still trying to keep Ivy and Poison, and Aspen separate, still trying to maintain the division between the shifts. Badass assassin…s and normal shifter trying to go to classes and live a normal life. But they’re not separate, Ivy. They’re you. All of you.”

“How very fucking philosophical, Bram ,” I snarl as another duplicate appears, this one crackling with pure chaos energy. “But how does that help me right now?”

“Stop fighting it,” he insists. “Stop trying to be either Ivy or Poison. Be both. Be neither. Be whatever this power is making you become.”

“He’s right,” Tate says, his burned hands now healed. “You’ve been trying to control it, to keep it contained in neat little boxes. But that’s not how evolution works.”

A particularly violent stream of power sends me into the foetal position. The duplicates flicker and multiply, each one showing a different aspect of who I am and who I could be.

“I don’t know how,” I admit through tears of pain. “I don’t know how to be both.”

“Yes, you do,” Torin says quietly. “You do it every time you’re with us. Every time you let yourself just be, without labels or expectations.”

The pain reaches a crescendo, and I feel something inside me start to break. But maybe it needs to break. Maybe that’s the point.

Taking a shuddering breath, I close my eyes and stop fighting. Stop trying to be Ivy or Poison, witch or chaos wielder. I just... am.

The power whirls one final time, but this time, it doesn’t hurt. It feels like something clicking into place, like puzzle pieces finally finding their proper alignment.

When I open my eyes, the duplicates are gone. The kitchen is a disaster zone, but the pain has subsided. Looking down at my hands, I see the pink energy still flowing through my veins, but it’s different now - more integrated, less like it’s trying to escape.

“Your aura is whole again,” Bram says. “But a vibrant purple. You have combined your personas.”

“For how long?” I ask weakly.

He presses his lips together before answering, “That’s what we will have to figure out.”

I stand carefully, testing this new equilibrium. My power still snaps beneath my skin, but it no longer feels like it’s trying to tear me apart. Instead, it feels right. For now.

“Well,” I say, looking around at the destruction my transformation has caused and rubbing my chest, which has healed of the three-pronged attack, “that was fun.”

Tate snorts, examining his healing hands. “That’s one word for it.”

“Are you okay?” Torin asks, moving closer but still maintaining a safe distance.

I consider the question seriously. “I think so. It feels different, like everything’s settled into a new configuration.”

“And the shifting?” Bram asks. “Can you still control it?”

I focus briefly, and my appearance changes smoothly between Ivy and Poison before settling back. “Yeah, but it feels different too. Less like putting on a mask and more like expressing different aspects of the same whole.”

“That’s what Death meant,” Tate says suddenly. “About evolution. This isn’t just about power growing stronger, it’s about it becoming something new entirely.”

I nod, watching as pinky-purple energy dances between my fingers, responding to my thoughts without trying to overwhelm them. “I think you’re right. But something tells me this is just the beginning.”

“Of what?” Torin asks.

Looking around at my guys—my anchors, my lovers, my partners in whatever this chaos is becoming—I smile. “Of finding out exactly what I’m capable of now that I’m not subconsciously fighting myself anymore.”

The power purrs beneath my skin, no longer trying to tear me apart, but eager to show me what it can do. What we can do, now that we’re truly integrated.

“Should we be worried?” Tate asks, but he’s grinning.

“Probably,” I admit. “But when has that ever stopped us?”

He chuckles, but I can see the worry underneath. I’m scared too, but I won’t show it. Whatever this evolution is, I have to learn how to identify it and control it before I’m torn apart by it. If that happens, I’m not sure what will be left of me .