Black Moon

Chapter 21: Ivyxlyn

(Pronunciation- Eye-vicks-lin.
Naught- nothing)

I stepped through the door of my house to find Ivy sitting on the couch. I'd thought she'd gone to training with Kiera and Rayn... perhaps she was back early?

I tried to hide the evidence of my tears, but Ivy wasn't fooled. A look of sympathy, then fury crossed over her face. It was like she knew what was going to happen to me, and was indignant on my behalf. She slowly stood, and then her expression closed off. Ivy slowly opened her arms to me, and I couldn't resist- not even in the slightest. Jumping into her arms, I let gut-wrenching sobs wrack my body. Tears poured down my face in torrents as I exposed the true depth of my sadness to Ivy. I'd thought I could hide it and be strong until tomorrow, but I just... couldn't. Seeing the woman who'd grown to be one of my closest friends so soon after the shock of my life broke me. After tomorrow, I would never see her again, or smell her post-thunderstorm scent, or feel her cinnamon colored skin ever again. Because I would be dead. The futility of it all crashed down on me as I wept. Even if I did manage to kill one of the wretched White Blood Trio, there would be two others, and all three of them were older than dirt. I stood no chance fighting even one of them, let alone all three. And winning? Please.

I would die tomorrow.

That thought sent another bout of soul twisting sobs through me.

Sometime since I'd started crying, Ivy had deposited us on the couch and wrapped her slender arms around me. As my tears began to abate, I snuggled deeper into her side and relished her scent while I could.

When I was completely done crying, I peeked up at her, and I saw the same ancient sorrow and wisdom in the depths of her chocolate eyes.

"Ivy," I started, my voice cracking a bit, "You're not just any werewolf, are you?"

A sad smile painted her face. "No, dear. I'm not."

"Then what are you?"

Ivy's gaze broke from mine as she stared into the distance. "Would you like to hear a story, little one?" She asked. I nodded.

Ivy glanced at me before staring into another world again. The sad smile reappeared as she began her tale.

"Caloua, my name is not Ivy. Well, it is, but not my given name. My true title is Ivyxlyn. It is from a language older than time, when there was naught but words and emotions. I was created before the human race was a blip on the Creator's radar-"

"Wait! Ivy- or Ivyxlyn... do you mean God when you say Creator?"

Ivyxlyn refocused her attention on me before replying. "The Creator is everything. No one knows who or what he or she is, because they may be naught but a force. The Creator is the little coincidences in your life, the little tricks of fate that seem meaningless but hold more power than the universe itself. The Creator is the beginning, and the reason for life. The Creator is also the end, and the reason for death. The Creator is all."

I nodded, but the influx of information was more than a bit overwhelming. Ivyxlyn noticed my distress and smoothed her hand over my black hair. "May I continue?"

Once again, I bobbed my head in acceptance.

She refocused on a spot in her world. "I believe that I was created to guide people. Obviously, I may never know the answer, but that is what I believe my purpose is. I am immortal, and I have watched both humans and supernaturals come into existence and flourish. I have lived through every high and low point in recorded history, as well as much further back. The world, I have found, is a curious place. Humans have no idea the supernaturals exist, but the supernaturals know everything about the humans. None of you are at all quite different, and yet there are those who find it simple to condemn a unique race because of appearance. In reality, you are all quite the same. Your emotions are the same, you are all at least in the form of a human at some point in our lives, and you all have problems. Despite my aeons of life, I have yet to comprehend the reason for this particular type of prejudice..."