Chapter 61: Ashes and Omens

The acrid tang of smoke and dust stung Ivy’s nostrils as she slowly opened her eyes. The roof of the helipad had collapsed in around them, mangled metal and concrete slabs forming a skeletal canopy overhead. A cold wind whispered through a jagged opening where the wall had been blown out.

Asher groaned beside her, his head bleeding where the clone’s scalpel had nicked him. He tried to move, but Ivy grabbed his arm, fear sharpening her voice.

“Don’t—just breathe.”

He nodded, his gray eyes clouded yet alive. Around them, the world had turned into chaos: fires smoldered among the wreckage, Sparking wires sizzled, and far below, the green glow of emergency flares marked the crater where the Syndicate command room once stood.

“Ivy,” Asher croaked, wincing. “The child—”

She clutched her abdomen. The hourglass mark burned softly beneath her skin, but the child was safe. She’d felt—no, she’d known—a fierce protective bubble had surrounded her in the blast. She looked down and, for the first time, felt it: a faint kick, as if her daughter were asserting her presence even before birth.

“She’s okay,” Ivy whispered, tears mixing with sweat. “She protected us.”

A shout from outside drew their eyes. Kira’s team was pulling survivors—rebels and prisoners—from the wreckage, loading them onto stretchers and hauling them onto waiting Black Hawks. Jaxon’s rugged form emerged from the smoke, straightening and scanning for Ivy and Asher. He waved them over.

They stumbled forward together, Kira catching Ivy under the arm and guiding her toward a waiting bird.

“Get them in!” Kira yelled. “We’re leaving—NOW!”

Ivy and Asher were lifted aboard just as the second wave of explosions rocked the compound—secondary charges rigged to ensure nothing salvageable remained. The lead helicopter rose, buffeting the fugitives with its downdraft, the roar of rotors competing with distant blasts.

Inside the cabin, harsh red emergency lights flickered on. Medics rushed to Ivy’s side.

“How—how’s the baby?” she asked between shallow breaths.

A medic checked her vitals, then lowered his voice: “Strong heartbeat. Mama and baby stable—for now.” He nodded, relief flickering in his eyes.

Asher squeezed Ivy’s hand. “We… made it.”

She blinked back tears. “We did.”

They landed at a secret Rebel base high in the Ossian Mountains. The facility, carved into granite cliffs, was cold and antiseptic—a stark contrast to the inferno they’d just escaped. Ivy was taken directly to a private suite deep underground, where sterile white walls and humming monitors awaited her.

Asher paced outside the doorway until Kira intercepted him.

“Malrick’s broadcast is going viral,” Kira said, voice low. “He’s claiming the destruction was a ‘necessary reset’—that the Syndicate will rebuild stronger.”

Asher’s jaw clenched. “He won’t win.”

Kira shook her head. “He’ll try. And he’s got assets everywhere. We’re not safe here.”

Asher placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll deal with him—together.”

In her suite, Ivy lay on a narrow bed, monitors attached, and a medic sitting vigil. The mark on her belly had faded—but she could still feel its pulse. The baby inside kicked again, gently, as if to reassure her.

Ivy closed her eyes and let tears fall.

She had lost so much.

The clone, the Sanctuary, the brother she thought was gone…

But she still had Asher. Still had her daughter.

She whispered into the dim room: “Hold on, little one. We’ll protect you.

That evening, Asher and Jaxon convened with Kira and the Rebel council in a cold, steel-walled war room.

Holographic maps displayed Syndicate strongholds, now shifting, reorganizing under the cover of global misinformation. Malrick’s face dominated newsfeeds—villainous yet magnetic.

Marla’s earlier declaration rang in Asher’s mind: “We’re all targets now.” And it was true. They had blown up the Syndicate’s heart, but its arteries ran far and wide.

“We can’t rebuild the old Sanctuary,” Kira said. “But we can cripple their network. Cut off their funding. Expose Malrick’s experiments.”

Jaxon nodded. “We have evidence—clones, embryos, the command room data. If we leak it to the world, they’ll have nowhere to hide.”

Asher exchanged a look with Ivy’s image on the screen. She needed a future—a world where her daughter could live. This was their war now. He replied, voice firm: “Let’s bring down the Syndicate for good.”

That night, Ivy slipped from the suite, careful to avoid guards. She felt restless—watched—even here. The corridors were empty except for humming machinery.

She paused before a mirrored door. Reflected back was the tired woman she had become—and beneath that reflection, the ghost of what she once was: frightened, manipulated, yet unbowed.

She placed a hand on the door, the reflection rippling. Suddenly, she heard a faint lullaby, sung in a child’s voice.

It came from beyond.

Ivy pressed the door’s access panel. A click.

Inside was a small meditation chamber—a gift from Seraphina weeks earlier—lined with runes to calm the mind. Ivy stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

Then she heard it again—the lullaby, echoing softly.

She followed the voice to the center, where an oval mirror hung suspended, its surface dark.

Asher’s voice echoed behind her: “Ivy, don’t—”

But as she turned, the mirror flickered.

And there, in its glass, she saw not herself, but a vision of the future: her daughter, grown into a tall, regal figure, draped in white and gold, standing before a crowd; behind her, two armies—one of light, one of night—poised to clash.

A chill shot through Ivy’s spine.

Before she could move, the mirror cracked.

And the reflection spoke—her daughter’s voice but older, wiser:

“Mother… it’s time.”

Ivy’s blood ran cold. She stumbled back as the mirror’s shards fell away, revealing a hidden compartment behind it.

Inside lay an ornate, ancient key—its handle shaped like an hourglass entwined with twin serpents.

Her mark had pulsed seven days ago, but now her daughter, unborn, called out with authority.

Asher’s hand on her shoulder steadied her.

“We need to open this,” he whispered. “Whatever it unlocks—our future, or the Syndicate’s last secret.”

Ivy’s fingers closed around the key.

Below, the Rebel base generator rumbled to life, lights flickering back on.

And somewhere, far below, the shattered ruins of the Sanctuary began to glow… as if responding to her touch.