Chapter 45: The Trial of Truth

Two Ivy's stood before them.

One chained, her eyes filled with tears and desperation. The other was calm and collected, free of restraints, wearing a faint, self-assured smirk that never quite reached her eyes.

Mira stepped forward, her voice steady despite the chaos swirling in her thoughts. “The world cannot hold both of you. One Ivy belongs. One does not.”

Killian stood behind Mira, his jaw clenched, eyes darting between the two identical women. Lyra sat at his feet, hugging his leg, silent but alert. Her young mind sensed something unnatural, something wrong.

The room was silent—until the chained Ivy finally broke it.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m the real one.”

“I’m sure you’d say that,” the free Ivy said with a smirk. “But tears don’t prove the truth.”

“I remember Lyra’s lullaby,” the chained Ivy choked out. “I remember the day she took her first step. I remember what Killian whispered to me the first time he saw her.”

The free Ivy’s smile faltered.

“I remember too,” she said quickly. “Because I am her mother.”

Mira raised her hand, the sigils on her palm glowing. “Enough.”

She turned to the altar, where ancient glyphs began to shimmer across the stone surface. “This is the Trial of Truth. A soul-binding ritual that separates shadow from self.”

She looked at Killian. “But there’s a cost. A deep one.”

Killian stepped forward without hesitation. “What is it?”

Mira’s gaze turned sombre. “The trial demands a sacrifice. A piece of someone tied to both Ivy's—someone who loves them enough to fracture the veil.”

Killian didn’t flinch. “Then use me.”

Mira placed Killian at the centre of the ritual circle. She began the incantation, her voice echoing off the stone walls. Symbols danced in the air, each one sparking a different pain through Killian’s body—memories being pulled from his soul like threads unravelling.

Flashes of Ivy:

—Her laughter in the garden —The night they almost kissed —Her screams during labour —Her silence when she thought he’d betrayed her

Each one laced with love. With guilt. With truth.

A blinding light filled the chamber.

Both Ivy's screamed at once—one in pain, one in rage.

Then it happened.

The chained Ivy began to glow with a soft, golden hue.

The free Ivy’s skin shimmered… and cracked.

Mira gasped. “The shadow is breaking!”

“No!” the free Ivy shrieked, her voice warping. “You don’t get to erase me! I am her! I am her strength—her rage—her protection!”

She lunged toward Lyra, her nails transforming into claws.

Killian moved, but too slowly.

It was the chained Ivy who broke her restraints, diving in front of her daughter.

The claws sank into her shoulder.

She cried out but didn’t stop, pushing Lyra behind her as Mira shouted the final words of the ritual.

A blinding gust of wind exploded in the room.

And the false Ivy disintegrated—screaming into nothing.

Ivy collapsed beside Lyra, clutching her bleeding shoulder. Killian ran to her, dropping to his knees.

“You’re real,” he breathed. “You’re really you.”

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I never wanted to bring her back. I didn’t even know she was part of me.”

Mira approached, panting. “She wasn’t always separate. The Womb of Echoes split her from you—making her a living entity.”

Ivy looked up. “Is she really gone?”

Mira hesitated. “Gone from here. But she’s part of you. She always was. You’ll feel her shadow sometimes… but you’re strong enough to control it now.”

Killian wrapped his arms around both Ivy and Lyra, pulling them close. “We face everything together. No more secrets. No more shadows.”

But Mira remained quiet.

Because she knew something no one else did.

The trial had succeeded… but it had also awakened something deeper inside Ivy. Something ancient. Something that was never supposed to resurface.

Later that night, Ivy sat alone in the garden, her shoulder bandaged. The moon hung low and red—a bad omen in Mira’s texts.

She clutched her knees, thinking of everything. The false Ivy. The ritual. Killian’s sacrifice.

And then it happened.

A memory that didn’t belong to her flashed in her mind.

A prison cell. Chains made of obsidian. A voice calling out from the darkness.

“Tell them I’m not dead. Tell them Asher lied.”

Ivy’s eyes flew open.

She gripped the grass beneath her.

That wasn’t her memory.

It wasn’t the shadows

It belonged to someone else.

“Asher,” she whispered. “What did you do?”