Lahat ng Kabanata ng I CHOOSE HIM, BUT HE'S MY ENEMY: Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

~IVY~The dungeon has a way of making time feel sticky.Not slow. Sticky. Like every second steps on gum before it reaches me and refuses to let go. I sit on the stone bench that pretends to be a bed, feet dangling, counting the drips from somewhere above. One. Two. Three. I lose count and start again. It’s my newest hobby. That, and pretending I’m not thinking about the word execution every time I blink.Like how long before I actually get executed? Long enough for my powers to grow and burst me out of here?I trace the crack in the wall with my finger. The crack I made. It’s still there, thin and ugly, like a reminder that I’m not as powerless as I look. Or maybe a reminder that power doesn’t always help.I just want my powers back, but I can't really train it with guards checking in on me every minute. It's like they sense I'm up to something. I've tried chatting with them numerous times to get over the boredom but they don't respond. I even told one he's too cute to be a guard bu

~IVY~It feels like I've been here for ages. Nothing changes, everything stays the same.Staying here has revealed to me that change is good, change is a part of life. It's a sign of evolution, of growth. We chase permanence but dance daily with impermanence.I'm becoming philosophical by the day, staying alone in a dark room will do that to you. It'll make you notice the little things and examine thoroughly each passing thought in your head.This is the only way to stay sane.I think I should request for a book. I should be remembered for my philosophical thoughts rather than just being called the last cursed Lyovles bloodline.The dungeon is quieter today.Not peaceful, it's just tense like it’s holding its breath.I sit on the cot with my back against the wall, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. The stone is cold even through my clothes, but I don’t bother moving. Comfort feels pointless when the world has already decided how your story ends.Three days feels closer now.Not

~IVY-Apart from my constant nightmares, they're few times I dreamed about the moment before the chaos. The moment where my parents and I were happy, moving freely in the village and chatting with our neighbors.I remember how we'll tend to our gardens together, hold feasts with friends. I even remember the scoldings I received when I took cookies without permission. At that time, kneeling down with my hands raised up was the most dreadful thing ever.But now? It's a memory I cherish, a memory that never fails to make me smile.These dreams are rare. They should make me the happiest, after all it's different from the sweat filled, tear jerking nightmares of the hunters killing my family and chasing me. I should be happy that my brain doesn't only remember the bad times, but also the good times.But this dream makes me even more sad, because it gives me hope. Hope that things will be well. Hope that there's a light after the tunnel.That word fills me with a desire to overcome every o

~IVY~ The courtyard doesn’t look like a school anymore. Stone tiles are cracked, scorch marks crawl across the ground like ugly scars, and the air smells sharp, like burned metal and rain that never quite falls. Magic hums everywhere. It's low, angry and restless. It buzzes against my skin, crawls under it, like it’s looking for a way inside. I’m still on the execution platform, half sitting, half slumped, wrists finally free but shaking like they belong to someone else. Wolves circle below. Guards lie scattered. Students watch from behind broken wards, faces pale, eyes wide, mouths open like they forgot how to breathe. Lord Tracon's speech has left them glaring at me with an accusing gaze. None of them are in support of my freedom. I don't blame them to be honest, who will be in support of someone painted as a villain, someone said to bring destruction and death? Everyone wants to live, and if it means taking my life so it'll be possible, they'll happily do it. And

~IVY~The spell aimed at Damon never lands.Not because I block it.Not because Karl reaches him in time.But because the battlefield itself seems to hold its breath.Magic freezes midair, hovering inches from Damon’s chest. Dust hangs suspended. Fire flickers without moving. Even the wolves pause, paws lifted, snarls locked in place.Everything stops, including my heart.I stand there with my arm stretched out, palm burning so hot it feels like my bones might melt. Blood drips down my fingers, glowing bright red, lighting up the ruins around me like I’m holding a piece of the sun.I don’t remember deciding to do this.I just… did.Damon turns slowly, eyes wide, staring at the magic frozen in front of him. Then he looks at me.“Ivy,” he says softly. “What did you do?”I swallow. My throat feels raw. “I panicked.”Karl skids to a stop beside me, breathing hard, eyes flicking between me, Damon, and the frozen spell. “You didn’t just panic,” he says. “You stopped time.”“Temporarily,” I