Page 22 of Hex and the Dragon
"We can't let it use our feelings against us," Ivy said urgently, though she made no move to step away from Dorian's embrace.
"Then we'll have to be stronger than our fear," Dorian replied, his voice steady despite the magnitude of what they were facing. "Stronger than our love, if necessary."
"How?" Ivy asked, though part of her already knew the answer.
"By trusting each other," Dorian said simply. "By believing that what we've built together is worth protecting, even from our own desire to keep each other safe."
In response to their determination, the Chronicle's whispers grew more insistent, painting vivid pictures of all the ways they could be separated, all the dangers they would face in the coming battle. But Ivy found that the fragment's threats carried less weight now, buffered by the certainty that whatever happened, she wouldn't face it alone.
They dressed slowly, reluctant to break the physical connection that had become both comfort and strength. Outside the archive room windows, the shadow-figures continued theirpatient prowling, but they seemed less threatening now—obstacles to overcome rather than insurmountable forces.
"Two days until the equinox," Dorian said as they settled back onto the floor beside Ivy's desk, his hand finding hers with easy familiarity.
"Two days to destroy something that's been planning this moment for centuries," Ivy agreed, opening the Chronicle to pages that now seemed less seductive and more clinically interesting.
"Think we can do it?" Dorian asked, though his tone suggested he already knew her answer.
"Together?" Ivy said, squeezing his hand as she began to read the Chronicle's latest revelations. "Yes. I think we can do anything together."
The fragment's response was a pulse of cold displeasure, but Ivy found she no longer cared about its approval or disapproval. She had something real now, something worth fighting for that existed outside the Chronicle's perfect dreams.
The real battle was just beginning, but she was no longer facing it alone.
NINE
IVY
Dawn crept through the library's windows like a wounded animal, pale and hesitant, as if even the sun was reluctant to illuminate what Mistwhisper Falls had become overnight. Ivy woke curled against Dorian's side, her body still warm from their lovemaking but her mind immediately alert to the wrongness that permeated the air around them.
The Chronicle lay open on her desk where they'd left it, but the pages were no longer displaying the clinical analysis they'd been studying before exhaustion claimed them. Instead, the parchment showed moving images—like a twisted cinema screen made of ancient paper and malevolent ink.
"Dorian," Ivy whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. "You need to see this."
He came awake instantly, dragon instincts keeping him alert even in sleep. His amber eyes stared on the Chronicle's pages, his expression shifted from drowsy contentment to sharp alarm.
The images showed the two of them from the previous night, but wrong—distorted in ways that made Ivy's stomach lurch with recognition and horror. She watched herself and Dorian come together in passion, but this version was tainted withsomething darker, more destructive. Their magic didn't weave together in beautiful harmony but clashed and sparked with volatile energy that scorched the air around them.
"It's showing us what could happen," Ivy said with growing dread. "What it wants us to believe will happen."
The scene on the Chronicle's pages shifted, revealing a future where their magical connection during lovemaking went catastrophically wrong. Ivy watched in horror as her bibliomantic abilities spiraled out of control, rewriting reality without her conscious intent. Words poured from her lips in ancient languages, and with each syllable, Dorian began to fade—not dying, but being systematically erased from existence as her power rewrote his very presence out of the world.
"That's not possible," Dorian said firmly, though Ivy heard the doubt beneath his conviction. "Bibliomancy doesn't work that way."
"Doesn't it?" Ivy asked, her voice small as she watched the horrific scene play out. "I've been having episodes where I write things I don't remember. What if, in the throes of passion, when my magic is fully awakened and uncontrolled..."
The image shifted again, showing them from Dorian's perspective—his dragon nature overwhelming his human consciousness as their bond deepened. This version of him was consumed by primal fury, his fire magic burning out of control until it incinerated everything within reach. Including Ivy, who reached toward him with love and trust even as his flames consumed her.
"Stop," Dorian said sharply, slamming the Chronicle closed. "That's not real. It's showing us our fears, not our future."
But the damage was done. Ivy could feel doubt creeping into her mind like poison, turning the beautiful memory of their connection into something tainted with potential horror. What if their magical bond really was dangerous? What if theChronicle was showing them genuine possibilities rather than manufactured fears?
"The others," Ivy said suddenly, remembering their separated friends. "We need to make sure they're safe."
Dorian was already reaching for his shirt, his movements careful and distant in a way that hadn't been there the night before. "I'll check the perimeter. Make sure the wards are still holding."
"I'll try to contact Leo on the radio," Ivy agreed, though she noticed they were both avoiding direct eye contact, both putting physical distance between themselves as if proximity might trigger the disasters the Chronicle had shown them.
The communication equipment crackled with static before Leo's voice came through, exhausted but alive. "Ivy? Thank god. What's your status?"
