Torn Ivy (Thornfield Supernatural Academy #2)

30. Bram

30

brAM

We stand in stunned silence, staring at the broken form that was once Ivy, now resting on Cathy’s couch inside the too-quiet house. Reality still feels wrong, like it’s been stretched too thin and has snapped back into place but is saggy. My insides twitch and writhe, sensing the lingering chaos in the air.

“We need to do something,” Tate says, his voice cracking. He hasn’t let go of Ivy’s hand, even though parts of her keep phasing in and out of existence. “There has to be a way to bring her back.”

“Back from where?” Torin asks bitterly. “She’s been torn apart. Scattered across dimensions. We have no idea where she is or how many pieces she’s in.”

Tate growls at Torin’s blunt words, but the vampire is right. I feel a chill run through me at his words. As a Fae, I understand liminality better than most, except maybe vampires. The spaces between realms, the thin places where worlds overlap. But this is beyond anything I’ve ever encountered.

“We start by stabilising what’s left of her physical form,” Cathy says, all business despite the horror of the situation. “My prototype might be able to disrupt the decoherence fluctuations, at least temporarily.”

She aims her weapon at Ivy’s shifting body.

Tate backhands the laser gun out of Cathy’s hand. “No.”

“Easy,” I say, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We need to try something.”

“It can’t get any worse,” Torin mutters.

I glare at him. “Will you fucking shut up?”

“What? There is no point sugarcoating this. It’s fucked. Everything is fucked!” He turns away and moves to the window to stare out of it into the night sky.

As I stare at Ivy, ignoring Tate and Cathy arguing, I see a flicker of very recognisable magick under Ivy’s skin.

“Fae,” I murmur. “What do you want?”

Narrowing my eyes, I stare at it. It slithers out and aims for me, wrapping itself around me.

With a grunt of surprise, I’m yanked out of this realm and thrust directly in front of the King and Queen of the Dark Fae in their throne room back at home, toppling over and hitting my knees painfully on the floor at their feet.

“Welcome home, son,” Dad says brightly, a big beam of what can only be described as amusement on his face.

I stagger to my feet, disoriented by the sudden shift in reality. The familiar opulence of the Dark Fae throne room surrounds me, a stark contrast to the chaos I just left behind.

“What the fuck?” I growl, glaring at my parents. “You couldn’t have sent an invitation?”

Mum raises an eyebrow, her expression full of amusement and disapproval. “Language, darling. And we did try more conventional methods. You’ve been ignoring our summons.”

“I’ve been a little busy,” I snap. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a cosmic war brewing in the supernatural realm.”

Dad waves his hand dismissively. “Supe problems. We have more pressing matters to discuss.”

I feel my temper rising. “More pressing than veils being torn apart?” I nearly add, Than Ivy being scattered across dimensions? But think better of it.

“The Hammond witch,” Mum says, waving her hand dismissively. “That’s why we’ve brought you here.”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you know about her?”

Dad stands, his imposing figure radiating power. “We know that she represents a convergence point of ancient magicks. A nexus of chaos and order that could reshape existence itself.”

“Yeah, well, she’s currently reshaping existence by being torn apart molecule by molecule,” I growl. “So, unless you have something that can help me save her, I’m going.”

“This magick of hers is Ancient Fae. You know that, right?”

“What of it? It’s not helping her.”

“Not helping her?” Dad laughs, the sound echoing unnaturally through the throne room. “My dear boy, it’s the only thing keeping her from being completely unmade, right now.”

I freeze, hope and suspicion warring within me. “What do you mean?”

Mum stands, her gown shimmering like a starry night as she descends the dais. “It is clinging to her. A lifeline for her, of sorts.”

“But Ivy’s not Fae.”

“No,” Dad agrees. “But her bloodline was engineered to channel Fae magick. To harness chaos in ways even we cannot fully comprehend.”

My mind reels with the implications. “So, you’re saying...”

“That the very thing tearing her apart is also what’s keeping her together,” Mum finishes. “The Ancient Fae magick is both poison and antidote.”

“How do we fix her?” I demand. “How do we bring her back?”

Dad’s expression grows serious. “It won’t be easy. She’s been scattered across dimensions, her essence fragmented. But there might be a way.”

“Tell me,” I growl.

Mum produces an ancient tome, its cover writhing with living shadows. “There’s a ritual. One that can call back fragments of a shattered soul. But it requires sacrifice.”

“What kind of sacrifice?” I ask instantly, knowing I will lay down my own life to save her.

My parents exchange a loaded glance before Mum answers, “The ritual requires three sacrifices: one of blood, one of power, and one of spirit.”

“Explain.”

Dad sighs heavily. “The Ancient Fae were dark. Really pitch black. Bear that in mind. The blood sacrifice is straightforward, a willing offering of life force to anchor the scattered fragments. The power sacrifice involves channelling and burning out a significant portion of one’s magical essence. The spirit sacrifice...” he trails off, looking grim.

“What?” I growl impatiently.

“The spirit sacrifice requires surrendering a core piece of one’s identity,” Mum finishes. “A fundamental aspect of self, given up willingly and permanently.”

I feel the weight of their words settle over me. These aren’t just sacrifices. They’re mutilations of self on the deepest levels.

“But this will bring Ivy back?” I ask, needing to be certain.

“It should reconstitute her essence,” Dad says carefully. “But she won’t be the same. The ritual will leave scars, both on those who perform it and on Ivy herself.”

I nod grimly. “Better scarred than scattered across dimensions.”

“You understand that you alone cannot complete this ritual,” Mum says. “It requires three willing participants. One for each sacrifice.”

My mind immediately goes to Tate and Torin. I know, without a doubt, they’d be willing to pay any price to save Ivy. The question is, who will take on which sacrifice?

“I’ll do it,” I say firmly. “I’ll gather the others, and we’ll perform the ritual.”

Dad nods solemnly. “Be warned, son. This magick is ancient and dark. It will exact a terrible price.”

“On top of what it will take from us?” I ask steadily.

Mum nods and hands me the ancient tome. Its cover shrinks away from my touch. “The instructions are within. Choose your sacrifices wisely.”

“How do we perform the ritual?” I ask, pushing aside my doubts for the moment.

“The ritual must be performed at a nexus point between realms. A place where the veils are naturally thin.”

“Thornfield,” I mutter. “Ivy ripped the place apart earlier.”

Dad nods approvingly. “That would work. You’ll need to create a ritual circle using blood from all three participants. The sacrifices must be made in a specific order - blood, then power, then spirit.”

“The blood sacrifice anchors her scattered essence,” Mum explains. “The power sacrifice provides the energy to pull her back together. And the spirit sacrifice...” she pauses, looking grim, “it gives her something to come back to. A beacon in the chaos.”

I absorb this information, my mind already racing with plans. “How long do we have?”

“Not long,” Dad says gravely. “The longer she remains scattered, the harder it will be to bring her back. And there’s a risk...”

“What risk?” I demand.

Mum’s expression grows solemn. “The longer Ivy remains scattered, the more her essence will fragment. Eventually, there may not be enough left of her original self to reconstitute.”

I feel a chill run through me at her words. “How long?”

“It’s hard to say,” Dad replies. “Time moves differently across dimensions. But I wouldn’t wait more than a day in your realm.”

I nod grimly, clutching the ancient tome. “I understand. Thank you for this.”

Mum steps forward, placing a hand on my cheek. For a moment, her regal facade cracks, showing the concern beneath. “Be careful, my son.”

“I will.”

Dad nods approvingly. “You’ve chosen well, Bram. She’s a worthy mate for a prince of the Dark Fae.”

I start to protest that it’s not just about me, that Tate and Torin are equally important to Ivy. But I realise now isn’t the time for that conversation. Instead, I simply nod.

“I need to go,” I say. “We don’t have much time.”

Mum waves her hand, and I feel reality shift around me. “We’ll send you back to the moment we pulled you from.” But then she leans to whisper in my ear. “Good luck, Bram. Tap into the Ancient Fae running through your veins. It is the only way.”

The throne room dissolves, and I find myself back in Cathy’s living room, the ancient book wriggling in my grip. Tate and Cathy are still arguing, frozen in the exact positions they were in when I was pulled away. Torin remains by the window, his back to the room.

“Enough,” I growl, my voice cutting through their bickering. “I know how to save Ivy.”

They all turn to stare at me, expressions ranging from hope to suspicion.

“How?” Tate demands, his eyes fixed on the writhing book in my grasp. “Where did you get that?”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for their reactions. “I’ve been back home. Long story short, there’s a ritual. Ancient Fae magick. It can pull Ivy’s scattered essence back together, but...” I hesitate, knowing how they’ll react to the cost.

“But what?” Torin asks, moving away from the window.

“It requires sacrifice,” I say grimly. “Three sacrifices, to be precise. Blood, power, and spirit.”

The room falls silent as they process my words.

“What kind of sacrifices are we talking about?” Cathy asks, her eyes narrowed.

I explain quickly, watching their faces as understanding dawns. The blood sacrifice, a willing offering of life force. The power sacrifice, burning out a significant portion of one’s magickal essence, and the spirit sacrifice, giving up a fundamental aspect of self.

“I’ll do it,” Tate says immediately, his jaw set with determination. “Whatever it takes.”

“We all will,” Torin adds, moving closer. His eyes flick to Ivy’s still form on the couch. “She’d do the same for any of us.”

I nod, feeling a sense of dread that I’ve never experienced before. “It won’t be easy. The ritual will leave scars, both on us and on Ivy. She might not be the same after.”

“Better scarred than scattered,” Torin says grimly, echoing my earlier thoughts.

“We need to move fast,” I say. “My parents warned that the longer Ivy remains fragmented, the harder it will be to bring her back. We need to do this before…”

“Before what?” Tate demands.

I take a deep breath. “Before there’s not enough left of her original self to reconstitute.”

A heavy silence falls over the room.

“Where do we perform this ritual?” Cathy asks, all business despite the gravity of the situation.

“Right here in the garden,” I reply, shoving all personal emotions aside and adopting a more businesslike attitude. It is the only thing that will get me through this. “It’s a nexus point between realms, anyway, especially after Ivy tore it apart earlier. The veils are thin here.”

Tate nods. “We’ll need to move her carefully. In this state, who knows what dimensional shifts could do to her.”

Torin takes a step closer to her.

“No,” Tate says. “I will carry her.”

“You are shaking like a fucking leaf in a gale,” he snaps. “Back up and let me. Stealth is my middle name.”

Tate grimaces, but he backs away.

I grip him by the elbow and lead him outside. “We’ve got this and her.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything.

I’m left with a feeling that this is going to end badly.

For all of us.