Ivy tipped back the bottle of fruit wine and emptied it onto her waiting tongue. She had spent the next day and a half in blissful, drunken solitude. People only disappointed her. Over and over. Virian, Rose, the witches of Rhune. It didn’t matter. Screw them all. Wine was her only friend. It was the only friend a witch could have.

A couple of days ago, she might have thought that what had happened to her in Atrican all those years ago had caused her to meet Virian, so it wasn’t all bad. But even that had soured. She kicked away the empty bottle and reached for another. It didn’t matter how much Rose insisted that everything she had gone through was necessary for Ivy’s survival or how sorry Virian was. They weren’t worth her time. She brought the next bottle to her lips.

----------------------------------------

Ivy slammed up against the hull of the boat, jostling her awake. Two bottles clanked along the floor of the hold of whatever ship she had chosen to hide out on. Her head and arm throbbed, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Or drink more wine. But that required going back to Virian’s ship, which was a definite no.

The ship lurched again, turning the contents of her stomach. Ugh. She was going to be sick. Unless she got more wine. Surely. She could sneak in and out without anyone knowing. It was one of two things she was good at.

She let her power envelop her, the twisting gray pathways of the witch world winding around her. Her vision swam against the mess of the place, the alcohol doing her no favors. She tried to stand, but it didn’t go well, and she tripped over her own feet, landing on her broken arm.

“Aaa!” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to rub out the pain, when another massive wave hit the ship. The motion sent her rolling who knew where. “Ow, damnit. Ah! Oww!” She could only hope her uncontrolled movement in the witch world did not land her in the middle of the sea.

Eventually, she stopped, bumping up against something solid. She opened her eyes and found herself in a small, dark room. It was well into the night, and the cabin was lit by nothing other than residual torchlight from the deck above spilling in from a tiny, circular window.

“Ow,” Ivy blurted out, rubbing her arm some more.

“I-is someone there?” a weak voice asked.

Shit!

“Uhm, sorry,” Ivy said, “Wrong room. I’m drunk. I’ll—”

Ivy tried again to get to her feet, unsuccessfully.

“Wait,” the voice said, “I recognize your voice. You’re my brother’s—” Oh, shit! Why did her power take her here of all places? Camellia coughed, and Ivy could hear the wetness behind it.

“Sorry,” Ivy said again, “I’ll let you rest. Uhh. Bye.”

“Don’t run away. Please.”

“I’m…I don’t—” Ivy took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall. Standing was overrated anyway. “Okay. I’m here.”

“Can you come closer?” The last word was little more than a whisper. “It’s hard…for me…to—”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Ivy scooted along the floor on her butt until she reached the side of the bed, resting her back against that instead. The ship rocked, tilting her over onto her side, flat against the floorboards. She stayed there for a minute, hoping to fall back asleep, but when oblivion did not come, she righted herself against the bed.

“So-”

“I’m going to die soon,” Camellia said. Her voice came out so thin. Ethereal really. Like she had one foot in the grave already.

Ivy groaned. She wanted to be anywhere but here. For a second, she contemplated calling on her power again, but she could almost guarantee it would plop her in the ocean this time.

“I heard,” Ivy said, “but I don’t know why you’re talking to me. I’m the last person you should look to for comfort.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am.”

“My brother loves you, you know?”

Ivy clenched her jaw. So that was what this was about?

“Look,” she said, “I’m not so cold as to leave you here when you may not wake up tomorrow, but can we talk about anything else?”

“Are you sure it's not because you drank too much to find your way out of here?”

“Uhh…”

“It was a joke.”

“A half-truth,” Ivy said. Rose’s words seemed to pop up everywhere these days. To Ivy’s surprise, the other woman actually let out a strangled laugh. Apparently dying hadn’t taken away her humor. But it was cut short by another fit of coughing, and more violent swaying of the ship. There must be a storm overhead. Ivy had not paid the weather any mind for the last two days.

“Then perhaps you’d like to discuss killing me instead?”

It was Ivy’s turn to laugh this time.

“You were awake,” she said. “I need more wine. So much more. Okay, then. Let’s start with Virian.”

“He was wrong to ask you like that.”

“He’s a piece of shit is what he is.”

A silence hung over them for a minute, the only sounds coming from the harsh waves crashing against the hull of the cabin.

“I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve some of what you said to him, but—”

“Just stop, Camellia. I understand you love your brother. But I don’t. He’s no different than anyone else. No one cares about me. They all have a purpose for me. A use. It’s disgusting. I hate it.” Little droplets of water began to splash between her outstretched legs. She didn’t remember starting to cry. “When I first became a witch I thought it was the worst thing to ever happen to me. When I realized it made me stronger, I thought the opposite. But now, I recognize it for what it is. The church is right. It’s a curse. I just want to be normal. I want—”

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“You don’t mean that.” Camellia’s voice sounded even shakier. Broken. Great. Ivy had made the dying girl cry along with her. She truly was the worst.

“I’m so lonely,” Ivy said. Her emotions came spilling out, the puddle of tears growing with every sob.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and Ivy spun to see Camellia sitting up, looking down at her with her own tear-streaked face. Her cheeks were hollow and gaunt, her frame thin and pale. A flash of lightning pouring in from the window accentuated the near lifelessness of her body. Ivy could hardly believe Camellia could even prop herself up like she was. Yet still, she took the energy to do so.

“You’re the one dying,” Ivy said, “but here I am, the pathetic one, being comforted. I told you I wasn’t the person to talk to.”

“But at least you can say there’s one person who cares about you.”

“Not for long.”

Once again, Ivy earned a weak giggle. Yet the joke was not only morbid but true. It only darkened Ivy’s mood further that such a kind soul would soon be forever lost.

“Is this what you really want?” Ivy asked. She didn’t have to specify what.

“Yes.” The answer came immediately.

“Why?”

She pulled her hand from Ivy’s shoulder and laid back on the bed.

“I’ve tried to stay strong,” she said, “for you. For Virian. But every second is torture. Worse than awakening. Worse than anything.”

Ivy shut her eyes and rubbed away the last of her tears. When she reopened them, a blast of lightning glinted off the hilt of her dagger, still embedded in the wall.

“Okay,” she said, “but I’m going to need more wine.”

Before she could enter the witch world and step down into the hold, Camellia reached for her one more time.

“Talk to him,” she said, “he cares for us both. He made the decision he thought was best, despite the cost to himself.”

“Himself?”

“You didn’t see how crushed he was after you left. He knew what asking you meant.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Ivy finally managed to get to her feet successfully, and took one step into the witch world, sending her directly into the storage hold. A tall figure was already there, standing over the crates of her most precious fluid.

“What do you want?” she asked Virian.

“Ivy!” He turned from the stacks of wine bottles toward her. “I—”

“You were waiting for me.”

He cleared his throat.

“Yes, well, I uh…knew this was the one place you were bound to return.”

“Yeah. So, what is it? Or are you going to let me drink? I wouldn’t mind blacking out this whole evening.”

“You already look drunk.”

“Not enough. Is that all you wanted to say to me?”

“No,” Virian said, shaking his head, “no. Of course not. I need to apologize to you.”

“Great. Anything else?”

She started to walk forward, aiming to snake around his left side to the wine. He caught her by the arm on her unbroken side, and she froze, unsure of how to proceed. Her dagger was still in Camellia’s room, so she couldn’t cut off the offending limb. She didn’t have the strength to overpower him, but she could give him a little scare in the witch world. The image of the mutilated soldier from the battle at Atrican came back to her and she grimaced. No. She opted for her iciest glare up at his annoyingly handsome face.

“After my mother died—”

“Is this going to be long?” She cut him off.

“Please, just hear me out.” She said nothing and he continued. “Cammy was the only person I had on my side. Until you.” Ivy flinched. “I didn’t know what to do, seeing her like that. It killed me. Every day. And then you came back to me. I was so happy, but then…Cammy was still there. It didn’t feel fair. I lost my reason. I—”

Ivy reached up and covered his lips with her hand. They were so soft and—Ugh! No.

“It’s fine, Virian. I get it. I’ll do it, okay? So, get out of my way.”

He recoiled, backing out of her reach.

“What?”

“I’ll kill your sister, just like you wanted. But I’m going to need my wine, so if you don’t mind?”

“No!” huh? “I came here to tell you that you were right. I would never be able to get the image of you doing that out of my head. I am a complete idiot for suggesting such a thing. And…more than that, I need to stop trying to tell you who you should be. I may never be able to agree with everything you have done or will do. All I can say is that I will try my best to accept you as you are. And…I’m sorry.”

This was about more than just Camellia. They still had yet to really talk about a year ago in Atrican. If he really meant his words…well that would mean—

But her blood still seethed at what he had done. Her words came out in a sharp hiss, “You don’t have to watch.”

“No. Do not kill Camellia, Ivy.”

It was hard not to laugh. Or cry. Or shout, or…

She stepped back up to him and looked him in the eye.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked. “Why did you put me through this?”

“I…don’t,” he looked away, “I’m sorry, Ivy.”

Ivy let her head fall, her forehead resting against his chest.

“She just convinced me to do it.”

“Are you…” he shifted but didn’t back away, leaving Ivy leaning against him. “You talked to Cammy?”

“Not on purpose,” Ivy said, “it kind of just happened. She’s nice.”

“You can’t do it.”

“I know. I just…I saw how much pain she was in. How much you are in. I realized if I could end that, I could do something good. For once my talents could be used to help someone. Someone important to me.”

His arms wrapped around her, and she stood there in his embrace for a moment before returning the hug.

“Do you love me, Virian?” she asked.

She felt his muscles tense all around her.

“I—”

“I’ll make it easier for you. Do you really care about me, and not just for what I am? What I can do? And don’t even think about lying to me. I can ask Rose for the unfiltered truth.”

“You don’t have to make it easy,” he said, “and ask Rose all you want. I’m in love with you.”

Her whole body warmed to a fever-like state, and she tightened her hug, but she still couldn’t let him off that easy. After a second of enjoying every inch of him up against her, she shoved him off.

“Good. Now get off me. I’m still mad at you.”

Virian pulled back, eying her with a curious gaze, even sporting a hint of a grin. But it was quickly suppressed by something far more overpowering. A shadow hung over both of them, and Ivy stared down at a discarded wine bottle rolling near her feet. If there was just something she could do. Anything.

“I need some air,” she said. He only nodded.

It was a long and arduous battle against her drunkenness and the swaying of the ship just to make it to the hatch that led to the deck. The ladder up was a whole other war against her mind and body. She didn’t feel like using her power. She wanted time to think, and to feel just a bit normal.

When she pushed open the hatch, her face was assaulted by huge droplets of wind-ripped rain. She crawled more than climbed out, rolling to her back, soaking her clothes in an instant. Get some air? What was she thinking? The storm had become an afterthought amongst everything else. Still, she just laid there, letting the weather embrace her. A bolt of lightning turned night into day for a moment, striking so near she swore it had hit the ship. The accompanying blast of thunder shook the boat down to its mast. Yet Ivy remained as still as could be, almost in a trance. Or maybe just a drunken stupor.

Her behavior was anything but normal, and without realizing what she was doing, her power unfolded around her. The storm transformed into an infinitely complex antipattern of shapes and angles that couldn’t possibly exist. She could see—feel—another blast of lightning before it even formed. This place…it was so strange. So powerful. How could she not find a way to help Camellia?

The witch world spun and twisted around her, the jagged lines seeming to coalesce into a single, dark hole. She reached up as though she might be able to grasp it, but it unraveled as fast as it had come. With her hand still raised up before her, she twisted her arm so that her palm was facing her, wondering what the hell she was even doing. Why had she tried to touch such a thing? It seemed familiar somehow. But not in a good way. She shivered, reminded of a similar darkness in the eyes of the only two demons she had met.

Her thoughts went back to a year ago. That night in the cathedral. Of the demon’s pitch-black eyeballs across its horrific, twisted abomination of a body. Each one ran through with a spike of Alaricite, yet still staring at her. The conjured image made her want to retch, yet at the same time drew her in. How powerful had she felt after she had taken in the creature’s power? Her body had been filled with an indescribable vigor.

An idea began to form in the back of her mind. A stupid, terrible idea that made her want to run as far as possible and hide. But also, one that she knew she had to try. It was purely a long shot, but it was all she had. All they had. Recalling Virian’s desperate, haunted expression every time he looked at his sister gave Ivy just enough strength to consider it. Maybe, just this once, she wouldn’t run away.