Blog Post 5: The Alchemy of Ivy Mae
Title: "When the Sun Spoke Back"
The lavender scent clung to the air like a ghost. None of them slept much that night. Jas tossed and turned on the makeshift cot, Ivy stared at the rafters, and Roman, true to form, snored in the corner like nothing could bother him.
But it wasn’t the scent that kept Ivy awake. It was the vial. Sitting on the workbench, it pulsed faintly, like the heartbeat of something alive.
At sunrise, the world outside felt… wrong.
Ivy was the first to step out of the garage, the cold morning air biting at her cheeks. She froze mid-step, her breath catching in her throat.
“Guys,” she whispered, her voice tight. “You need to see this.”
Jas appeared behind her, blinking blearily, and Roman grumbled as he shuffled out, rubbing his eyes. “What now?”
The sky was ablaze. Waves of green and purple light rippled overhead, like the northern lights had come south for a visit. But these lights weren’t soft or distant—they burned brightly, pulsating in time with an unseen rhythm.
“What the hell?” Roman said, staring up.
“It’s beautiful,” Jas murmured, though their voice trembled.
The ground trembled too. Just slightly, like a low hum vibrating through the earth. Ivy glanced back at the garage, her stomach twisting when she saw the vial glowing brighter than ever, its light spilling out of the windows.
A crackling sound filled the air, and a burst of static echoed from an old radio Jas had left on the bench.
“…WARNING…SOLAR FLARE DETECTED… UNPRECEDENTED MAGNITUDE… SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY…”
The message looped, distorted, like a voice trapped in a broken machine.
Then the surge hit.
The lights in the garage flared to life—every bulb, every dusty string of Christmas lights Jas had forgotten to take down. The power roared back on, flooding the air with the buzz of electricity.
And then the tree outside their house exploded.
The force knocked them off their feet, a blinding flash followed by a deafening crack. The ground smoldered where the old cedar had stood, its branches now scattered like ash on the wind.
They lay sprawled on the frost-covered ground, stunned into silence, until Roman sat up and rubbed his head. “Okay,” he said, his voice unsteady. “What in the actual hell is happening?”
Ivy didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on the sky, where the auroras twisted and shifted like a living thing. For a brief moment, the lights formed a pattern—circles within circles, like the ancient carvings she’d seen in her grandmother’s books.
“Guys,” Jas said, their voice trembling. “I think this is just the beginning.”
The radio crackled again. This time, it wasn’t a warning. It was a single word, clear and deliberate:
“…RUN…”