Torn Ivy (Thornfield Supernatural Academy #2)

25. Ivy

25

IVY

Before any of us 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— evolution like 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.”

Bram moves closer, studying the floating design with his Fae sight. “That’s why the Ancient Fae magick responded to you. The Fae understand balance better than most - we exist in the spaces between realms.”

“And why I’m your anchor,” Tate adds, his black energy now threaded with hints of my chaos. “The Well bloodline isn’t just about containing chaos - it’s about helping channel it productively.”

I nod, feeling the truth in my bones. “Death knew Life was planning something. He knew she’d been manipulating bloodlines for centuries, trying to create the perfect vessel for her power. So, he adapted. Used her own plan against her.”

“By making sure her perfect vessel would be equally attuned to his power,” Torin says, catching on. “Fucking brilliant, actually.”

“More than that. He made sure I’d be capable of understanding both sides. Life and Death. Creation and destruction. Growth and decay. They’re not opposing forces—they’re parts of the same whole. Or they’re supposed to be.”

The twisted vegetation Life left behind responds to my presence differently now. Instead of growing wildly, it settles into a more natural pattern, finding equilibrium between growth and decay.

“That’s why you rejected becoming Death while still in the womb,” Tate realises. “Not because you were fighting against Death’s power, but because you were meant to be something else entirely. Something new.”

“Not new,” I correct, as I see the bigger picture. “Ancient. As old as Life and Death themselves. There has to have been a balance keeper. Someone or something that maintains equilibrium between realms. Life’s been trying to eliminate that role, to tip everything toward endless growth.”

Reality ripples around us again, but this time, I don’t fight it. Instead, I let my magick flow naturally, watching as it stabilises the fluctuations rather than exacerbates them.

“It’s not about becoming powerful enough to destroy Death. It’s about becoming balanced enough to stand between Life and Death. To prevent either force from dominating the other.”

“That’s why Death gave you those choices,” Bram says. “Kill us or lose your soul - he was testing whether you could understand the necessity of balance. That sometimes sacrifice is needed to maintain the natural order.”

“I’d be willing to bet that’s why he imprisoned us as well. To see if we could escape and get back to Ivy or give up and face our fate,” Torin murmurs.

Nodding, I find this all makes sense on a level that is so whacked out, it probably takes a mad bitch to understand it. “I found another way.”

“Because that’s what balance is really about,” Tate says softly. “Finding the path between extremes. Not just accepting the options you’re given but creating new possibilities.”

The marking on my lower back flares warmly, and I understand something else, too. “The fated mate bond - it’s not just about romance or destiny. It’s about creating connections that help maintain balance. Each of you brings something essential to this equation.”

“Tate anchors your chaos,” Torin says, counting off on his fingers. “Bram brings the Fae understanding of between-spaces, and I...” he pauses, frowning.

“You bring the perspective of someone who exists between life and death,” I tell him. “Vampires aren’t fully alive or fully dead. You understand liminality in a way few others can.”

The room falls quiet as we all process these revelations.

“So, what now?” Bram finally asks. “How do we stop Life from unmaking everything?”

“We don’t fight her directly,” I say slowly. “That’s what she wants. Conflict, disruption, a chance to prove that her way is better. Instead, we restore balance. Every time she tries to tip the scales toward endless life, we find ways to maintain equilibrium.”

“And Death?” Torin asks. “Where does he fit into all this?”

“He’s been playing the long game as well. Working against Life’s plans while appearing to oppose us. Everything he’s done, the ultimatums, the tests, even setting The Syndicate against me - it’s all been about preparing me for this role.”

“The perfect vessel,” Tate murmurs, “not for Death’s power or Life’s, but for balance itself.”

“Well,” I say after a moment of quiet reflection. “At least now we know what we’re really fighting for.”

The others nod, and I feel our bond strengthen - not just through fate or circumstance, but through shared purpose. Life might have spent centuries crafting the perfect vessel, but she never understood what that vessel was really meant to become.

Not a weapon of destruction.

Not an agent of eternal life.

But a keeper of balance.

A force for equilibrium in a universe that desperately needs it.

The real evolution isn’t about power at all.

It’s about understanding.

About balance.

About finding the path between extremes.

And for the first time since my power awakened, I feel truly ready to walk that path.

No matter where it leads.

No matter if it tears me apart.