Where Land Ends and Sea Begins

Dunking a spoon into the jar, Ivy sighed, withdrawing a large rounded scoop of honey. "I'm not drinking this for health benefits. I'm just trying to fall asleep," she replied to the ghost hovering over the counter who was frowning down at her tea.

"Will it really work? It's just a bunch of flowers, I don't see how that can make you sleep," Dustyn asked, furrowing his brows.

"Of course it will," the witch answered matter-of-factly, "Mom always made this when I couldn't sleep as a kid. It's not just tea. It's a spell." The sound of the spoon clanking against the glass rang through the darkened house, cutting through the silence. "The honey just makes it tolerable."

Dustyn hummed, a hand running through white hair as Ivy walked to her room and climbed into bed, blowing the steam as she mumbled an incantation he couldn't understand. As always, the boy followed like her shadow, laying over the empty side of the bed, but leaving no imprint. He hid how much this bothered him, rolling over to face her as she cupped the hot tea in her hands, taking small sips.

"Is it working?"

"Soon."

He waited a second. "Now?"

"I have to finish the whole glass first, it's too hot," she snapped back, not so much annoyed as just being exhausted, her current bout of insomnia having lasted over a week at this point.

The boy was silent now, watching her quietly sip at the tea until it was finally dry. Placing the cup on the end table, she slid down into the bed and pulled the covers to her chin, her milky eyes and red hair the only part of her peeking out. She stared blindly up at the ceiling.

"Do you want me to leave? Or should I read you a bedtime story?" he teased.

"Shut up, you're too loud," she bit back, pulling the cover over her whole head now.

"Huh, why not? I know some good stories!" he retorted, propping himself up on his elbow. She didn't argue this time. "Okay, once upon a time, there was a spoiled princess with red hair, and a chivalrous prince," he paused, waiting for her to stop him, but was met with silence again. "Ivy?" he asked, leaning over her outline under the blanket. "Are you ok?"

When she didn't answer, he reached to pull back the blankets, wanting to check, but phased right through them. Arceus damn it all.

"She's asleep," his sister said, making him jump.

"Stop coming up out of nowhere," he scolded.

The white haired girl crossed her arms, appearing on the opposite end of the room. "Stop bugging Ivy and let her sleep. If you won't let her sleep, stop eating all of her energy."

"I'm not--" she glared at him, and he corrected himself, "that's her choice..."

"So let her sleep," she ordered. What a bossy younger sister. But her expression softened. "She's not dead, I promise."

The last drop fell into the circle, the candles blazing with a strange heat. Dustyn felt sick, but Ivy didn't budge. The temperature in the room began to drop, her breath fogging in front of her, though she could not see it. "Please," she whispered, but she didn't need to. The air felt suffocating, pressing down on her like a weighted blanket.

"Ah... Ivy Rei, daughter of Asuna Rei," a deep, booming voice echoed from inside the salt circle. "Why have you summoned me?"

Unseeing eyes stayed locked downward, unmoving, unphased at the being before her, the aura threatening to eat her alive. Dustyn held back what felt like vomit, but was that even possible for someone without a physical body? At the sound, the entity in the circle shot it's head in Dustyn's direction.

"Not of the living, yet no child of mine," it stated, with what Ivy could only describe as disgust.

"Yveltal," she called, putting her back into it, unwavering. "God of death and all who will follow you in the end... what do you know of him?" she asked, no, demanded, with her eyes still cast downward.

The entity stalked the outer rim, pacing once before stopping right in front of the girl, staring down at her. She felt it reach a hand out, grabbing for her throat, but came up short when the boundary of the circle couldn't be breached. It hissed.

"Witch child," it boomed, slighted, angered. "Do not ask of what you do not wish to know."

"I do!" she shouted, looking up now, trying to make out just the slightest difference in light where it's imposing shadow was standing.

It laughed. "He does not belong to me, nor Xerneas. There is nothing to tell. Perhaps you should ask those that are in between, not absolute."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. After everything she did to call a God, to call Yveltal, or whatever death apparition it would manifest- it was fruitless? Everything. Everything she had tried. Useless. Just like she was.

"Do not call me here again, girl. I have come as a courtesy to your mother, but never again." With that, the presence was gone, the air lighter, warmer. Ivy fell to her knees, sobbing. What else could she do? Was it truly hopeless?