[Reader Discretion:Semi-Immortal explores mature and challenging themes, including trauma, mental health struggles, violence, and discrimination. It contains scenes that may be distressing to some readers. Please proceed with caution and prioritize your well-being.]
⋯
Darkness greeted Ivy Reyna once more, but it wasn't the comforting kind—the kind that swaddles you in sleep and offers an escape from the waking world. No, this was a suffocating blackness, one that felt alive, pressing into her chest and filling her lungs with cold dread. She couldn't remember a time when rest hadn't been corrupted. Even before she became a Semi-Immortal, sleep had always been elusive, a cruel game of chasing fleeting moments of reprieve. Now, it was worse. Infinitely worse.
Her body felt heavy yet weightless, a paradox she had come to recognize all too well. As the darkness receded, she found herself somewhere else entirely...
[The Unbound Realm.]
A vast, infinite expanse of white stretched in every direction. There were no walls, no landmarks, no horizon—just an oppressive void. Ivy's feet met the smooth, cold surface beneath her, though she could never tell if it was stone, glass, or some unearthly material that defied comprehension. Her reflection stared back at her from below, untouched by the swirling chaos within her mind.
She hated seeing herself here. The Ivy reflected in this space wasn't who she had become—her dirty blonde hair hung limply, a stark reminder of her youth and her mother, whose features mirrored her own. Her school uniform, oversized and tattered in reality, was gone, replaced instead by a simple white gown that resembled a hospital garment, stark and lifeless. Even her scars, the ones she'd carved into her arms in desperate attempts to escape, were absent. This version of her was infuriatingly pristine, unmarked by her struggles and pain.
The Unbound Realm always has to mock me, doesn't it? she thought bitterly.
Here, time stretched endlessly. What was only hours in the waking world dragged into weeks in this place. Every second ticked by with an agonizing slowness, as if the Realm delighted in her discomfort.
"You're back, little one."
The voice made Ivy's stomach churn. Soft as a whisper, yet it reached her ears clearly, as though spoken directly into her mind. It carried a maternal warmth that Ivy despised, like honey masking poison. She turned sharply to find the source, even though she already knew who it was...Amritkala.
The deity towered over her, a presence both awe-inspiring and unnerving. Faint shadows were cast onto the unending white floor by the delicate light emanating from her sapphire-blue skin. Long, silken hair spilled around her, pooling at her feet and extending far beyond where Ivy could see. Her eight hands moved with a fluid grace, their palms facing outward, each bearing a single, unblinking eye that seemed to watch Ivy with an unsettling intensity. Her flowing white robe billowed despite the absence of any breeze, blending seamlessly with the void.
Amritkala leaned down slightly, though even this movement left her towering above Ivy. Her eyeless face somehow managed to exude an expression of gentle concern.
"You fell again," Amritkala said, her tone carrying a motherly chide. "Why must you keep hurting yourself?"
Ivy's fists clenched. "What does it matter to you? It's not like you're my mother."
Amritkala's lips curved into a soft smile, a smile that Ivy couldn't help but find irritating. "You're correct. But I've watched over you since the moment you were reborn. I have a deep care for all my creations and feel a sense of responsibility for you, much like a mother would."
"I'm not your creation," Ivy snapped. Her voice echoed unnaturally in the void, but it felt weak against the vastness of the space and the deity before her. "I'm not some project you get to fix...I never asked for this! I wanted to die—do you get that? I made that choice. And you just—what? Dismissed it? Played god for the hell of it?!"
Amritkala sighed, the sound impossibly soft but still reverberating through the emptiness. "I gave you a gift. One that you've clearly yet to understand."
Ivy laughed bitterly. "Gift? Is that what you call this curse? As I said before—I had no intention of coming back. I wanted to stay dead. But you dragged me back here—into this nightmare. Why!?"
For a moment, silence hung between them, heavy and oppressive. The eyes on Amritkala's palms blinked in unison, their gaze unrelenting.
"Because," Amritkala said finally, her voice tinged with sorrow, "you were not meant to leave the world yet..."
"And who decided that? You?" Ivy's voice cracked, her anger boiling over. "Who granted you that authority, huh? You have no idea who I am. You don't understand what I've endured. You simply descended from your exalted position and yanked me back into this life as if it were nothing. You call it a gift, as if you're showing me mercy, but it was nothing less than theft. You stole my death."
Amritkala's expression didn't change, but there was a faint shift in her posture, as though Ivy's words had struck a nerve. She lowered one of her hands, the eye on its palm closing briefly before opening again.
"I empathize with your pain more than you realize, Ivy," she spoke gently. "I am aware of the extent of your suffering. However, taking your own life won't eliminate that pain; it will only intensify it for those around you."
"Will you stop spouting this nonsense already?! I'm done listening to this crap!" Ivy shouted. Her voice echoed violently, the force of her anger rippling through the void. "If you really empathised with my situation then you'd let me go. You'd let me die like I was supposed to."
Amritkala knelt now, her enormous form folding gracefully so that her face was closer to Ivy. Her long hair spilled around her like a curtain, the ends brushing Ivy's feet. Even at this reduced height, she was overwhelming.
"Ivy," she said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. "You were given this gift because you are stronger than you realize. Because you have a purpose that has yet to be fulfilled."
"For crying out loud... I'm not in search of a purpose," Ivy whispered, her tone almost a sigh. "I just want to be free...!"
Amritkala's expression softened further, her hands reaching out slightly, though she didn't touch Ivy. "Freedom isn't found in death, my child. It's found in living—in facing the challenges that life brings and rising above them."
Ivy averted her gaze, her nails pressing into her palms. She felt the urge to cry, to explode with rage, to make Amritkala grasp the intensity of her anger and frustration. Yet, she realized it would be futile. The goddess wouldn't comprehend, nor did it appear she had any desire to make an effort either.
"I'm done discussing this with you," Ivy said coldly, her voice trembling. "Just leave me alone."
Amritkala didn't move for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, she began to rise, her towering form returning to its full height.
"I'll let you ponder for a while," she spoke softly. "But remember, I'm always here, keeping an eye on you. Whether you want me to or not."
With that, the goddess began to fade, her form dissolving into the white void. Ivy watched her go, a mix of anger and exhaustion weighing heavy on her chest.
When she was finally alone again, she sank to her knees, her reflection staring back at her from the pristine surface below. For a moment, she let herself feel the weight of everything—the pain, the anger, the hopelessness. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She didn't know how much longer she would be trapped in this place, but one thing was certain: She'd be back here again. And again. And again.
The Unbound Realm never let her stay away for long...and it all traced back to what she had done a few months ago.
⋯
As Amritkala faded into the endless expanse of white, a profound silence wrapped around Ivy like a heavy shroud. This was not the serene stillness she had longed for; instead, it felt suffocating and relentless, pressing down on her chest with an unbearable weight. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to banish the echoes of their last conversation, but the emptiness of the Unbound Realm was unyielding. It clung to her, refusing to let her escape its grasp, as if it had more to reveal, more to take from her.
The air around her shimmered faintly, and a low, almost imperceptible hum began to stir. At first, it was distant, like the echo of a half-remembered dream, but it grew louder, more insistent. Ivy's eyes snapped open, and she found herself surrounded by ethereal shapes coalescing in the emptiness. The wisps—ghostly "messengers" of the Unbound Realm—emerged, their forms pulsing with a cold, silvery light. They moved like smoke caught in an unfelt breeze, their translucent edges shifting erratically, as if barely able to contain the energy within.
Each wisp glowed with a different intensity, some dim and flickering, others blazing brightly like cruel, miniature stars. Their voices began to echo in the void, a cacophony of whispers and lilting tones, laced with mockery and malice.
"Ah, Ivianna Reyna," one hissed, its voice sharp and grating, like nails on a chalkboard.
"Have you come to wallow again?" another added, its tone a singsong melody that dripped with disdain. "You stumble here so often, little one, it's almost like you belong. Maybe you should stay with us forever~"
"Leave me alone," Ivy snapped, her voice raw. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms as she fought to keep her composure.
The wisps drifted closer, their movements slow and deliberate, their light casting flickering shadows across her pale features. "We could leave," one mused, its form twisting into a vaguely humanoid shape for a moment, "but why abandon such a masterpiece of suffering? It's simply too captivating to resist. We rarely witness this, you see~ At least not from someone of your rank."
Another wisp darted forward, weaving around her head in erratic loops. Its laughter rang out, shrill and unsettling. "But even with your new rank it changes nothing~ Do you think you're any less pathetic than before? You may pretend to stand tall, but inside, you're still that same pitiful girl."
"Enough." Ivy said, her voice trembling despite her defiance. The wisps ignored her, their taunts growing louder, overlapping until they became a dissonant chorus.
"The same girl who pleaded for the universe to collapse around her."
"A coward who can't even look at herself in the mirror!"
"You can't run forever, Ivianna," one of them whispered, its voice low and intimate, brushing against her like an icy breath.
Before she could react, the white expanse beneath her feet rippled, and the oppressive void gave way to an all-too-familiar scene, dragging her unwillingly into the darkest corners of her past.
⋯
The emptiness surrounding her glimmered softly, blending into the muted hues of her bedroom. Her current bedroom. Every detail was rendered with agonizing clarity: the peeling wallpaper, the faint smell of mildew, and the muffled hum of a television playing in another room. Her uncle's slurred shouting bled through the thin walls, a drunken tirade that had been the backdrop of her life for as long as she could remember. Her stomach twisted when she saw herself, sitting on the edge of the bed. The other Ivy—the past Ivy—looked identical to her, down to the same messy, shoulder-length hair and the gauntness in her face. The only thing that set them apart was the scar on her neck, a jagged line that had long since been transformed into her Semi-Immortal marking. Without thinking, Present Ivy reached up to her neck, her fingertips gliding over the smooth skin.
The wisps circled her like vultures, their silvery forms flickering with restless energy. Their taunts began softly, a whisper that crawled beneath her skin.
"Still so stubborn," one hissed, its voice sharp and grating. "Look at her. Look at you."
"The girl who thought she'd solved everything," another sneered, its tone dripping with derision. "But you didn't solve anything, did you?"
"This is pointless," Ivy snapped, her voice cutting through the cacophony. She glared at the wisps, defiance burning in her tired eyes. "I'm not ashamed of what I did. You can't make me feel guilty."
The wisps laughed, a sound like shattering glass, and moved closer. Their translucent edges glowed brighter, casting an eerie light on the room.
"Guilt?" one repeated mockingly. "We're not here to make you feel guilty."
Before Ivy could retort, the scene began to move. Past Ivy rose from the bed, her movements deliberate yet disconnected, as if she were operating on pure instinct. She scanned the room with a hollow gaze before stepping toward the closet. The wisps floated invisibly, their voices narrating her every action.
"There she goes," one crooned. "A martyr in her own tragedy."
"Such certainty," another mocked. "It's a pity it didn't resolve anything. Your circumstances remain exactly the same."
With trembling hands, she tugged out a crumpled bed sheet, her breath shallow and unsteady. Present Ivy watched as her past self carried the sheet to the bed, dragging it across the floor like a heavy burden. Past Ivy's hands fumbled, twisting the fabric into a crude noose, her expression unnervingly calm. She paused only to drag a small plastic box from the corner of the room, positioning it beneath the curtain rod with meticulous precision. Each deliberate movement from her past self intensified the knot of tension in present Ivy's chest, a mix of helplessness and rage.
"My, my... not even a flicker of doubt. How delightfully heartless," one wisp purred, voice lilting with amusement, sympathy just barely clinging to the edges.
"Well, obviously~ She's already tossed her life out like yesterday's trash," another one sneered. "Quick choice, sure — but brave? Hardly."
Ivy's past self climbed onto the box, the bed sheet swaying gently above her. Her hands shook as she looped it around her neck, pulling it tight. She stood there for a moment, her shoulders heaving as she took several deep breaths. The distant sound of her uncle shouting blended into the background, his words slurred and unintelligible. She glanced toward the door, her expression unreadable, before stepping off the box.
The memory played out in agonizing detail. The suffocating pull of the noose, the desperate, gasping breaths, the gurgling sounds as her body fought against itself. Her hands clawed at the sheet, her nails scraping against the fabric as her vision blurred. Her legs twitched and kicked, the box tipping over with a hollow thud. Ivy felt it all—the raw, visceral terror of dying, the unbearable weight on her chest, the sharp sting of tears streaming down her face.
Time froze, and the wisps returned, their glow bright and blinding. "Feel it," they whispered in unison. "Each frantic breath, every fleeting moment of valuable life that you carelessly squandered. Can you sense it? Do you understand now, how completely misguided you were?"
Ivy stumbled back, her hands clutching at her throat as if to dispel the phantom sensation. "I don't regret it," she spat, her voice cracking. "I don't regret it!"
"Liar," one wisp hissed, darting close to her face. "You such a liar! You regret living. You regret surviving. You even regret being born in the first place."
"You regret everything," another snarled. "But you're too proud to admit it. How pathetic."
"Do you see it now?" one murmured. "The futility of your actions? You longed for death, yet in the end, it didn't rescue you from your suffering, did it?"
"You cannot escape your own truth," another murmured softly, almost with compassion. "No matter how hard you fight it, you will inevitably be drawn back to this pain for the wrongs you have committed."
Ivy's body shook with a mixture of rage and exhaustion. "Shut up," she growled, her voice hoarse. "Just shut up!"
The wisps didn't relent. Their forms grew darker, more solid, as they closed in around her. She felt their hands—cold and intangible yet suffocating—press against her throat. Her breaths came in short, frantic gasps as the room dissolved into blinding light. The wisps' voices overlapped, their chant growing louder and more desperate.
"We aren't done with you yet. You still have much to learn."
"You will listen, Ivianna! And you must listen closely, for this is your reality."
"You can't run from it. Heed our warning, Ivianna... please..."
Ivy fought against the suffocating grip that held her tightly, her nails scratching at her neck as if she could claw away the unseen force binding her. Panic surged through her as her vision began to fade, the light around her consuming everything in its path. All she could hear was the eerie chant of the wisps, their voices swirling around her like a chilling breeze. Their haunting melody echoed in her mind, relentless and impossible to escape...