Chapter 11: The space between many worlds

"You want me to do what?" I stare at Thalia like she's just suggested we go skydiving without parachutes. Which, honestly, might be safer than what she's actually proposing.

"Enter the spirit realm," she repeats, laying out strange-looking herbs and crystals in a circle around me. "Consciously this time, not just through visions."

After barely escaping the Archive with our lives (and I'm still not sure about Thalia who mysteriously survived and kept redirecting whenever she's asked 'how she survived'), we've holed up in what looks like an abandoned church. The stained glass windows are mostly broken, but the few intact pieces cast weird, shifting shadows across the floor.

"And you're sure this won't, oh, I don't know... Make my already bad situation worse?" I watch as she sprinkles something that smells like burning metal around my feet.

"Probably not," Thalia shrugs, which is super reassuring. "Your hybrid nature actually gives you an advantage. You're already part spirit, in a way."

Jay paces nearby, clearly hating every second of this plan. "There has to be another way to find the Crown."

"Did you hear of any other way from Lucian?," Thalia snaps, then softens her tone slightly. "Look, the spirit realm isn't just some spooky dimension full of ghosts. It's the source of all magic and both witch and wolf gain their powers and vitality from it.

Right now, it's almost bleeding into our world because something's thrown off the balance."

"Me," I say quietly. "I'm what's throwing it off."

"You're also what might fix it." Thalia lights a bundle of herbs that make my head swim. "But first, you need to fully understand what you are. The spirit realm might be able to help you with that."

The smoke curls around me, and I swear I can hear whispers in it already.(you need to know)

"What do I need to know?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Don't stray from the path," Thalia says, her eyes going serious. "The spirit realm... it's not bound by our rules of time and space. It'll try to distract you, to pull you into illusions. Stay focused."

"And if I don't?"

"And what kind of question is that?," Jay growls. "It seems like you want everything to fall apart."

Great. No pressure at all.

"Ready?" Thalia asks, raising her hands. Power begins to gather around us, making the air thick and heavy.

No. Not even close.

But;

the prophecy, the chaos.

the huntings, the worlds bleeding together…

All this will be a huge motivation for anyone, don't you think?.

"Do it," I say as if I can afford to change my mind.

Thalia begins chanting, and the world... shifts.

It's like being underwater, but the water is made of light and shadows. The church dissolves around me, replaced by an endless landscape that shouldn't be possible.

The whispers get louder, hundreds of voices speaking in languages I shouldn't understand but somehow do. They're calling to me, trying to tell me... something.

Child of two worlds...

The balance breaker...

Blood and moon…

spirits joined...

A figure forms from the shadows, tall and ethereal. It beckons to me, and my power reaches for it instinctively.

'Come', it seems to say without words. 'See what is'.

I take a step forward, then remember Thalia's warning. "Are you the path I'm supposed to follow?"

The figure's answer comes not in words but in sensations; fragments of memories that aren't mine.

I see the first witches making their pacts with spirits (not as bloody as it was described though). I see female figures on wolves running under a moon that feels more alive than any I've known. I see power flowing between many worlds like rivers of light.

I felt the need to follow this shadow… this guide.

leading me through what feels like miles of unreality I follow the shadow-guide until we reach... a tree.

But calling it just a "tree" feels like calling a supernova a spark.

It towers above everything, its branches seeming to stretch into infinity. Light pulses through it like blood through veins; golden light which I believe represents the witches mixing with silver wolf-essence in a mesmerizing dance. The longer I stare, the more I feel like I'm looking at the heart of everything.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

I spin around so fast I nearly fall. A woman stands behind me, I am looking at her but I can feel her presence everywhere. She's both young and ancient, beautiful and terrifying. Power radiates from her like heat from a bonfire.

"Morgana Wildheart," I breathe, recognizing her from the histories Thalia made me study. The first witch to ever make contact with the spirit realm. The one who started everything.

"And you," she says, circling me slowly, "are the aberration that threatens to undo all my work."

Well, that's... direct.

"I didn't ask for this," I say, but my voice sounds small even to my own ears. The tree pulses behind me, and I swear I can feel its judgment.

"No one asks for power," Morgana replies. "They simply choose what to do with it once they have it. And you, my dear, have more than any mortal being was meant to possess."

The shadows around us become unstable, taking shapes that make my eyes hurt.

She waves her hand, and suddenly I see double… no, triple. Multiple versions of reality layered over each other like transparent pages. "Trying to control the power is all you have done so far. Thinking you are making progress… or are you simply delaying the inevitable?"

In one layer, I see myself wielding power like a goddess, bringing peace between witches and wolves. In another, I watch myself tear the world apart, the barriers between realms shattering like glass. The visions shift and change so fast I feel sick.

"Stop it," I gasp. "Please."

"I'm not doing anything," Morgana says calmly. "This is your power, child. Your potential. Every choice you make splits your path a little more. Every breath you take strains the barriers between your world and this realm."

The tree's pulsing gets stronger, more erratic. Like it's responding to my distress. Or maybe causing it.

"Then tell me how to fix it!" I'm shouting now, my voice echoing strangely in this not-quite-real place. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do!"

Instead of answering, Morgana gestures to the tree. "Do you know what this is?"

"The source?" I guess, remembering Thalia's lessons. "The point where magic first entered our world?"

"Close." She touches the bark, and images flood my mind. "This is the Balance. The exact point where spirit and matter meet. Where magic and nature find harmony." Her eyes fix on me. "Until you."

As if to emphasize her point, the world around us flickers. For just a second, I see... something else. A reality where the sky is on fire, where the ground is filled with shadows that shouldn't be there. Where both witches and wolves lie dead, their essence feeding something that should never have been born.

"That's what's coming," Morgana says softly. "Unless you learn to contain what you are. And I can't say you are doing a very good job with it"

"Or unless I die?" I challenge, suddenly angry. "Is that what you're suggesting?"

"If only it were that simple." She actually sounds sad now. "Death is just another form of energy. Your power would simply... redistribute. Perhaps into something even more dangerous."

Great. So I can't even solve this by dying. The tree's light seems to mock me, its perfect balance highlighting everything I'm not.

"Then what am I supposed to-"

A scream cuts through everything – Nova's voice, but not from here and now. It's like hearing an echo from the future, filled with pain and... recognition?

Morgana's expression changes, just slightly. "Ah. So that's how it happens."

"How what happens? What did you see?"

But she's already turning away, her attention drawn to something on the horizon. Storm clouds gather there, but they're like no storms I've ever seen. They twist and wiggle with faces, with choices not yet made.

"You're running out of time," Morgana says, and for the first time, I hear urgency in her voice. "The Crown isn't just a tool for control. It's a key. And you're not the only one looking for it."

The tree pulses one final time, and in its light, I see the truth Morgana's been dancing around. The real reason she doesn't approve of what I am.

Because being a hybrid of witch and wolf, made it possible for me to be able to contain something much, much worse.

"Please," I step toward Morgana as she watches the rioting storm. "I need to understand. What am I really?"

The ancient witch's eyes flick back to me, and for a moment, I see something that looks almost like pity. "You're asking the wrong question."

Of course I am. Because heaven forbid anyone in this mess give me a straight answer.

The spirits around us grow restless, their whispers turning harsh. The air itself seems to suddenly reject my presence, like white blood cells attacking an infection. Which, given what Morgana's implying, might not be far off.

"Then what's the right question?" I demand, trying to ignore everything happening around us.

"Perhaps," a familiar voice cuts through the chaos, "you should ask why you were created at all."

Nova. But not the Nova I know. This one is translucent, more spirit than flesh. A possible future version? A memory? In this place, it's impossible to tell.

"You're not really here," I say, but I'm not sure I believe it.

"I'm everywhere you need me to be," Nova-but-not-Nova replies.

Her eyes are different, older, sadder. "Listen to her, Olivia. Really listen."

The storm edges closer, and with it comes a pressure that makes my head feel like it's going to explode.

"The prophecy," I start, but Morgana cuts me off.

"Is a warning, not a guide." She raises her hand, and images form in the air between us. "Look."

I see flashes of possibilities…hundreds, thousands of them. In some, I'm standing in control, power flowing through me as I try to heal the rift between worlds. In others, I'm the rift itself, torn open and bleeding chaos into reality.

"You are both salvation and destruction," Morgana intones, her eyes flaring with ancient power. "But the choice may not be yours to make."

"What does that mean?" The pressure builds, making it hard to think. The spirits' whispers have turned to screams.

"It means," Nova's echo says softly, "that fate has a way of making its own choices."

The storm is almost on us now. Through its chaos, I catch glimpses of unexplainable things – creatures born from the spaces between realities, waiting for their chance to break through the weak point that's been forming around our world.

"Tell me how to stop it," I beg Morgana. "Tell me what to do!"

But she just shakes her head, her form already starting to fade. "You already know. You've always known. The answer lies in what you are, not what you might become."

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"Riddles rarely do," Nova's echo smiles sadly, "until it's too late."

The storm hits, and everything dissolves into chaos. The tree's light goes out completely, plunging us into a darkness that feels alive. Through it all, I hear Morgana's final words:

"Remember, child of two worlds… balance isn't about choosing between light and dark. It's about understanding why both must exist."

Then I'm falling, or maybe the world is falling around me. The spirits' screams reach a crescendo that threatens to tear me apart.

"Time to wake up," Nova's echo whispers.

And just like that, I'm back in the abandoned church, gasping for air while Jay holds me steady and Thalia watches with worried eyes.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Thalia asks.

I look down at my hands, still feeling echoes of that impossible power. "No," I say honestly. "I found something much worse."