Chapter 1: Origins
Ivy POV
One of my earliest memories is that of my 'imaginary' friend. I don't remember her name, so let's call her Ellian. She was a little girl, around my age, whom I was very good friends with. She was very weird, which is what probably what drew me towards her in the first place.
Every time I saw her, she was wearing the same yellow shirt, purple floral skirt, and multicolored tights. I never asked why. Every time someone else saw us playing, she would 'disappear.' I got frustrated, but never asked why. My final straw was when, one day, I saw her playing out on the street. I went to call out to her, and saw a car pass through her. Through.
I never talked to her again.
But I learned from my mother that several family members of mine on her side were supernaturally sensitive, including her. She told me stories of encounters she had, and some her grandmother had told her of her own encounters.
While my great grandmother's stories showed her to be more of a psychic, my mother's "powers" were a bit stronger. She got the same feelings her grandmother did, things like "turn left instead of right" and "we should wait a bit to leave" both of which prevented them from getting into horrible accidents, but she also saw strong ghosts, ones that many other people saw, including a chef that had died on the job - heart attack, several years before - at the place she worked, and a ghost cat (though that one was felt, never seen) that would curl up on her chest while she slept, purring gently. She also had dreams; places she would later find, events that felt like they would have happened if she had made a different choice, even things that might have been memories from a past life.
It had seemed that me and my brother had received "gifts" of our own.
My brother was always smart beyond his years, but the kicker was when mum and dad were teaching him to talk. My mother held up a stuffed rabbit, and stated clearly "Bunny," followed by my father saying "Rabbit," which was replied with a very clear "hare," my brother's first word. My mother always told me that he was probably an Oxford professor in his last life. That seemed to be the only major incident though.
I, on the other hand, seemed to be even stronger than my mother. Friends would come to me all the time, asking for advice, not only because I was wise beyond my years, but because I just knew things. I even seemed to have all the instincts of a seasoned warrior, which I used without hesitation.
In middle school, I sat at the weird kids table. I was cool enough to sit anywhere I wanted, but I choose the outcasts. It was where I was most comfortable. Unfortunately, part of that was getting things thrown at us at lunch. This was common occurrence, but one day it got especially bad, when someone threw a full milk carton right at the back of my head. My instincts screamed at me to duck, so I did, I mean, what did I have to lose? Worst case, I look like an idiot. So I ducked, and the object that was destined for the back of my head sailed right over it. I had no possible way to know of the incoming dairy product. It instead hit my friend in the face, but that is beside the point.
I concluded that, like certain diseases that could be passed on genetically, women in my family were supernaturally-inclined. What scared me however, was that the gene, or whatever it was, was getting stronger with each generation. I saw ghosts even my mother couldn't, and had this aura about me that seemed to bring gifts and luck, something my brother called "Aura of Ivy." My powers came naturally, and more often than my mother's.
But I trusted my instincts, because even more than I was scared, I wanted to know why.