IVY'S POV
"Soon?" The word felt wrong in my mouth, too small, too fragile for something that carried this much weight.
I forced a breath in, but it caught halfway, my chest tightening painfully as though my body had not fully remembered how to function yet. "The punishment…?"
Seraphina didn't answer immediately.
Her gaze stayed on me longer than it should have, steady and deliberate, like she was measuring something beneath the surface—how much I could endure, how close I already was to breaking. "Well…" she said at last, her voice soft, controlled. "You collapsed. It wasn't—"
"I didn't get stripped."
The words came out before she could finish, flat and certain, cutting cleanly through the space between us like something I needed to anchor myself to before anything else could take it away.
For a brief second, her lips pressed together, and then she gave a small nod. "No. Not yet."
Not yet.
My fingers curled slowly into the sheets beneath me, weak but tense, the fabric gathering under my grip as though it could hold me in place.
"So what happens now?" I asked, quieter this time, not panicked, not hopeful, just waiting for something inevitable to take shape.
For a moment—just a moment—I almost let myself believe something had changed, that collapsing had bought me time, or mercy, or anything that wasn't immediate suffering.
The silence stretched too long for that illusion to survive. Seraphina's gaze shifted, not quite meeting mine this time as her voice lowered.
"It will take place by the next full moon, Ivy."
I didn't move at first. "The next full moon." The words didn't rise or echo; they simply settled, heavy and final, pressing down on my chest until even breathing felt deliberate, forced.
Something inside me gave way quietly, without drama, without resistance, just… gone.
I turned slightly, the motion slow and unsteady, my body protesting in sharp, delayed pulses of pain as I curled into myself and pulled the sheets higher, as if they could shield me from something that hadn't happened yet but already felt certain.
"This life…" My voice came out thin, fragile, scraping through my throat like it didn't belong to me anymore. "It wasn't meant for me." The confession slipped out before I could stop it, and for a moment my thoughts drifted.
my mother, leaving, choosing something else, anything else.
Maybe she hadn't been weak. Maybe she had simply known when to walk away.
The silence lingered, heavier now, until Seraphina finally moved.
"Come," she said gently. "You need to be cleaned up. You haven't had proper care in two days."
I didn't argue. I didn't have the strength left for it. She helped me sit up slowly, one arm steady at my back, the other guiding my shoulder as my body resisted the movement.
The moment I shifted upright, pain struck hard and immediate, a sharp, internal pull that made my breath hitch violently.
A strained sound slipped from me before I could stop it, my fingers tightening weakly against her arm as everything seemed to lag behind my muscles slow to respond, my limbs heavy, my balance uncertain, like I had been put back together incorrectly after being taken apart.
Even sitting felt like effort. Even breathing came with resistance.
"Easy," she murmured, adjusting her hold without drawing attention to it, supporting more of my weight as she eased me to the edge of the bed.
A damp cloth brushed against my skin, and I flinched instinctively, the sensation sharper than it should have been.
My body reacted to everything, every touch, every shift, every movement small, involuntary tensions I couldn't control. She worked slowly, carefully, wiping along my arms, my collarbone.
The quiet in the room stretched thin, almost fragile, until it broke without warning.
The door opened.
No knock. No hesitation. Just the soft click of intrusion.
My head lifted slightly, the motion sending a dull spike of pain through my skull as my vision lagged behind the movement. Father stood in the doorway, watching.
That alone felt wrong.
He didn't come to check on me. He never had.
His gaze moved over me slowly, deliberately, taking in the way I sat barely upright, the way Seraphina steadied me, the evidence of weakness I couldn't hide even if I wanted to.
Something in his expression lingered too long,
"Ivy," he said.
My name sounded unfamiliar in his voice.
I straightened instinctively despite the sharp protest in my body, forcing myself to hold his gaze.
"You're awake."
Not relief. Not concern. Just acknowledgment.
"Yes."
His eyes flicked to Seraphina for a fraction of a second before returning to me, something unreadable settling behind them.
"Rest," he said at last, and then he stepped back, the door closing behind him with quiet precision.
But the air didn't return to normal.
Something had shifted.
He had never come to see me before. Not once.
I felt it immediately subtle, but wrong.
Seraphina resumed her movements, but there was a slight tension now, something barely visible in the way her hand paused for a fraction longer than necessary before continuing.
"I know," she said after a moment, her voice softer, grounded again, "that I can't replace her." I glanced at her, but she didn't meet my eyes. "Maria," she added quietly. "I'm not trying to."
Something in my chest tightened faintly.
"I just thought maybe we could start with something simpler," she continued, her tone steady but lighter now. "Friends. I could use one too."
That caught me off guard. "You?"
She huffed softly, a small shift in expression that almost resembled amusement. "I know. Shocking."
For a brief moment, something almost felt normal, but real enough to notice before it slipped again.
"Tell me something," she said after a pause. "What do you want the most?"
"To run away," I answered immediately, the words coming too easily, too honestly to take back.
She didn't laugh or question it, just nodded as if it made perfect sense. "And you?" I asked.
This time she hesitated, her hands stilling briefly against my wrist as her gaze drifted, unfocused. "Something unfinished," she said at last.
"That's vague."
A faint smile touched her lips. "Yes. It is."
A quiet beat passed between us before she added, more clearly now, "To kill my brother's murderer."
The words landed heavier than everything else that had been said.
I blinked, caught off guard by the weight of it. "That's… heavy."
"It is." She didn't soften it or explain it away, just accepted it as fact. When I looked at her, I found no obvious grief, no visible anger, just something contained, something deeper.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly.
"Don't be." She turned then, meeting my eyes fully, and for a moment something in her gaze felt colder, sharper than before. "Some things don't need sympathy, Ivy. They just need to end."
My stomach tightened, though I couldn't explain why.
The room fell quiet again.
Then something hit me, sharp and violent.
A flash tore through my mind like something forcing its way in, too vivid, too real to ignore.
A silver cup.
Cold. Gleaming.
Dark liquid swirling inside it like ink.
A hand holding it, steady, deliberate, but the face refused to form, slipping out of reach no matter how hard I tried to see it.
The room around it was familiar.
The long dining table. The light. The space.
And then
Seraphina.
She stood across from it, unaware, reaching for the glass.
The cup tilted.
Pain exploded through my skull.
"Aah—!"
The scream tore out of me as my hands flew to my head, my body folding in on itself as the vision slammed harder, sharper, splitting through my thoughts like something alive.
"Ivy—?" Seraphina's voice cut through, close, immediate, but the image wouldn't stop.
"Did you feel that?" I gasped, my voice shaking, breath uneven, my body struggling to stay upright as the room seemed to tilt around me.
"Feel what?" she asked, stepping closer, concern tightening her features as her hand reached for me again.
"That someone—" I couldn't finish. The vision crashed into me again, overwhelming, disorienting, my thoughts spiraling out of control.
My body staggered backward, my legs unsteady, my mind racing for something solid to hold onto.
Was it real?
Or was it damage?
After everything—the torture, the collapse, was this just my mind breaking under the strain?
Or was it something else?
A warning.
"You're probably reacting to the shock Ivy, gwt some rest" Seraphina stood to leave, but i could not focus on her now..
My hands trembled uncontrollably.
The image replayed.
Again.
The silver cup.
The dark liquid.
Seraphina reaching for it.
Someone in this house was going to poison her.
And I didn't know who.
And worse.
why the hell did I see it?