Chapter 18: A Bond Severed, A War Ignited

The forest was unnaturally quiet after Killian’s declaration. Ivy’s breath hitched as the glowing shard in his hand pulsed, casting a faint red hue over the ash-stained clearing.

“You’re not serious,” Ivy said, backing away slowly. “You wouldn’t hurt your own child.”

Killian’s jaw clenched. “They’re no longer a child—not in any way we understand.”

“They’re still mine,” Ivy snapped, fury sharpening her voice. “They came from me. I carried them. I bled for them. And I felt their heartbeat again just now.”

“You felt power, Ivy,” Killian replied, voice trembling with something darker than fear. “And don’t you dare confuse the two.”

Aiden stepped between them. “Put the shard down, Killian. We don’t need to go down this road.”

Killian’s eyes flickered to him. “You never did understand, did you? This was never about choice. It was about consequence.”

Ivy glanced at Lilith, silently begging for help, for clarity—for anything.

But Lilith was staring at the shard in Killian’s hand with pure horror.

“That piece…” she whispered. “It was part of the Sealing Altar. How did you—how did you even get that?”

Killian’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Because I was there when the seal cracked. I’ve been watching, waiting. Hoping I was wrong. But after today? After what we all saw?”

His eyes locked on Ivy’s. “There’s no undoing this. The child has tasted freedom—and it liked it.”

The weight of his words settled like a shroud over the group.

The flames from Isla’s army had been snuffed out. The Dominion forces had vanished. All sides had retreated—not from defeat, but from awe. From fear.

From the child.

“They’re still within me,” Ivy insisted, pressing her palm to her stomach, willing the bond to pulse again. “They didn’t leave. They just… reached out.”

“They projected,” Lilith corrected gently. “They showed a fraction of what they are. And Killian’s right about one thing: they’re aware. Far more than any unborn being should be.”

Killian moved closer, the shard glowing brighter.

Ivy stood her ground. “You come near me with that thing, and I swear—”

“You’ll what?” Killian asked, voice raw. “Fight me? Protect something you don’t even understand?”

Mira summoned a wall of ice between them. “This isn’t the way.”

“You think I want this?” Killian snapped. “You think I want to hurt something that came from me?”

His voice cracked.

“This child will destroy everything unless we do something now.”

Aiden’s hand tightened around his blade. “Then maybe it’s time you admit why you’re really here.”

Killian flinched.

“Go on,” Aiden pressed. “Tell her.”

Killian looked at Ivy, pain surfacing behind his stormy eyes. “I didn’t just come to kill the child. I came to bind them.”

Ivy froze. “What?”

“There’s a ritual,” he continued. “Something ancient. Forgotten by most. It won’t kill them… but it will seal away their awareness until they’re born. Human. Innocent.”

Lilith’s eyes widened. “That magic is forbidden.”

“But it works,” Killian said. “And it’s the only shot we have.”

Ivy’s head spun.

So many truths, so many half-lies tangled like threads around her. She didn’t know who to trust, not fully.

But she did know one thing: the child inside her wasn’t evil. Not yet. They had saved her life. Protected her. Reached for her when no one else could.

“They’re not a weapon,” she said softly. “They’re trying to survive. Just like the rest of us.”

“Survival doesn’t guarantee innocence,” Killian replied.

A distant rumble vibrated through the ground. Then another. The trees trembled as if something massive stirred beneath the earth.

Mira stepped back. “What is that?”

Lilith went pale. “Something’s coming.”

Then the earth cracked open at the edge of the clearing—and fire burst forth.

Not wild and chaotic, but deliberate—forming a perfect ring around them.

From within it, a figure emerged.

Isla.

Again.

But this time… changed.

Her hair floated as if underwater, eyes glowing the same gold as Ivy’s child. Her voice echoed unnaturally when she spoke.

“They’ve chosen a conduit,” Lilith gasped. “Isla. They’re… they’re speaking through her.”

Ivy stared at her half-sister. “Why?”

Isla smiled, but it wasn’t her own.

“You wouldn’t let me in, Mother,” Isla said in that layered voice. “So I found another door.”

Ivy staggered.

The child—her child—was speaking through Isla?

Aiden reached for his blade, but the flames surged higher, blocking him.

Isla stepped forward. “You wanted to keep me safe, Ivy. But I was never in danger. You were. From the beginning.”

“What do you want?” Ivy whispered.

“Freedom.”

The word echoed in Ivy’s bones.

The child wasn’t begging anymore.

They were demanding.

Killian raised the shard. “This ends now!”

Ivy lunged at him—too late.

The shard exploded in light.

And in that moment—everything fractured.

---

FLASHBACK – TWO YEARS EARLIER

A storm raged outside as Killian stood over an altar, his hands slick with blood not his own. A cloaked figure whispered in an ancient tongue beside him.

"You understand the cost?" the figure asked.

Killian didn’t hesitate. “Do it.”

The ritual began. Fire circled the stone slab.

Killian’s voice broke as he spoke the final words—binding not a soul, but a future.

A child’s fate etched in flame.

---

PRESENT

Ivy screamed as the energy from the shard struck her.

She saw memories—visions not hers.

Killian. The ritual. The betrayal.

He had known.

Before she was even pregnant, he had sealed her womb. Designed a prison for a power not yet born.

“You did this,” she whispered, collapsing to her knees. “You bound them before they existed.”

Killian’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I was trying to protect you.”

“No,” Ivy said. “You were trying to control them.”

The flames died suddenly. Isla collapsed unconscious.

And from above—a crack opened in the sky.

A rift.

Lilith shouted, “They’re breaking through dimensions! Ivy—we need to move, now!”

But Ivy stood rooted, her heart shattered.

Her child was more than unborn—they were betrayed.

By their own father.

By fate.

By the world.

A single tear fell down her cheek.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” she whispered to the presence inside her. “Not again.”

And for the first time—she felt the child respond.

Not in pain.

Not in rage.

But in trust.

Then the earth shook again.

And the first of the Eidolon stepped through the rift.

Creatures of flame and shadow.

Not bound by time.

Not loyal to anyone.

And certainly not human.