"I was. I am." I step back, studying her face. There are dark circles under her eyes, and her usually immaculate appearance is disheveled. "Sarah, I need your help. Something's wrong with my biology, with my transformation?—"
"Come in, come in." She ushers me into her office with nervous energy. "Sit down, let me get you some tea."
The office is exactly as I remember it—bookshelves lined with medical texts, her desk covered in research papers, the comfortable chair where I've sat through countless sisterly conversations. But there's a door at the back that I've never noticed before, partially hidden behind a moveable bookshelf.
"Sarah, I need to tell you what's been happening at the Vine Court Academy." I settle into the familiar chair, trying to organize thoughts that feel increasingly scattered. "The research position wasn't what I expected. There were... changes to my biology. A transformation that might be killing me."
She freezes in the act of preparing tea, her back rigid. "What kind of transformation?"
"Omega awakening. Ascension to fertility goddess. Divine power levels that feel like they're burning through my mortal flesh faster than my body can contain them." I watch her carefully, looking for the scientific curiosity that should spark in her eyes. Instead, I see something that looks almost like... resignation?
"That's... concerning." She turns to face me, and her expression is guarded in a way that makes my enhanced senses prickle with unease. "Have you consulted with the Fae court healers about these symptoms?"
"The court healers aren't telling me the truth." The words come out sharper than I intended. "Sarah, seven women have died attempting the same goddess transformation I've undergone. Seven women whose graves I found hidden in a memorial garden. I need to know if what's happening to me is reversible, if there's any way to anchor the divine magic before it consumes me completely."
The teacup slips from Sarah's hands, shattering against the stone floor in a spray of porcelain and hot liquid. Her face has gone pale, and she's staring at me with something that looks like horror.
"You found the graves?"
The question hits me like a physical blow. "You knew. You knew about the deaths."
"Maya—"
"How long have you known?" I stand abruptly, power flaring around me with enough force to make the papers on her desk flutter. "How long have you been aware that the position you recommended was potentially lethal?"
She doesn't answer, but her guilty expression is confirmation enough. I move toward her desk, studying the papers scatteredacross its surface with new eyes. Research notes about omega biology, fertility enhancement, magical affinity testing. And there, partially hidden beneath a stack of journals, the edge of a document that makes my blood run cold.
I snatch it up before Sarah can stop me. It's a detailed analysis of my blood work, dated three years ago. Three years before I ever heard of the Vine Court Academy.
"Blood sample analysis: M. Nakamura," I read aloud, my voice growing hollow as my heart pounds against my ribs. "Genetic markers indicate 73% survival probability for fertility goddess ascension. Blood compatibility suggests human physiology may anchor divine power where Fae biology fails. Recommendation: Proceed with candidate selection."
The paper crumples in my shaking hands as the full implications sink in, rage and betrayal burning hot in my chest. "You've been testing my blood. For years. Without my knowledge."
"Maya, please, let me explain?—"
"Explain what?" My voice cracks with fury, tears stinging my eyes. "That you've been planning to sacrifice me for your research for three years? That every blood test you told me was for 'family health tracking' was actually you analyzing whether I could survive a transformation that burns through most women who attempt it?"
I stagger backward, my enhanced senses picking up details I missed before. The metallic smell in the air—it's magical residue from Fae technology. The hidden door behind the bookshelf—it's not decorative, it leads somewhere. And Sarah's nervous energy isn't surprise at my unexpected visit.
It's guilt.
"Where does that door lead?" I demand, gesturing toward the back of the office.
"Maya, you're upset, you should sit down?—"
"Where does it lead, Sarah?"
When she doesn't answer, I push past her toward the concealed entrance, my heart racing so fast I can barely breathe. The bookshelf moves easier than it should, as if it's designed to be shifted frequently. Behind it is another door, this one secured with locks that look both mechanical and magical.
Sarah reaches for my arm, desperation clear in her voice. "Please don't?—"
I shrug her off, power flaring hot enough to make the locks simply... dissolve. The door swings open to reveal a laboratory that takes my breath away and makes my stomach drop with sick realization.
The room is three times the size of Sarah's office, filled with equipment I've never seen before. Crystalline formations that pulse with captured Fae magic, brass instruments etched with binding runes, charts mapping the intersection of human and divine biology. And everywhere, everywhere, evidence of research into goddess transformations and the fatal power levels required for ascension.
But it's the specimen jars that make my legs buckle.
Dozens of them line the shelves, each labeled with dates going back years. And in too many of them, I recognize my own handwriting on accompanying research notes—samples I provided for Sarah's "family health research" that I now realize were never about family health at all.
