Two days. Two days to decide whether I'll condemn thousands of Fae to extinction or trade my immortality for their salvation.
I think of Lady Rosemary, who dreams of children she'll never bear. Of Captain Sage, whose bloodline will end with her. Of Master Gardener Ash, who tends plants that will outlive their creator's entire species.
I think of the prophecy Oberon mentioned—eight bonds that will reshape the relationship between our peoples. What kind of message would our love send if it came at the cost of genocide? What would the other courts learn from a bond that chose personal happiness over the greater good?
"I need to see them," I say suddenly.
"Maya—"
"I need to see the people whose futures hang in the balance." My voice grows stronger as conviction builds. "If I'm going to make this choice, I want to understand exactly who I'm choosing for."
Thorian stares at me for a long moment, and I see the exact instant he recognizes the futility of arguing. "Together," he says finally. "We go together."
The tour of the court takes most of the day, with frequent stops to rest and nurse our daughter. But every interaction confirms what my heart already knows.
Lady Rosemary shows me her herb garden, explaining which plants were meant to ease childbirth pains she'll never experience. "I've been preparing for centuries, my lady. Learning everything necessary to help others through what I hoped to experience myself."
Captain Sage demonstrates sword techniques she planned to teach her children. "My father taught me, and his father before him. The line goes back twelve generations. Now it ends with me."
Master Gardener Ash walks me through propagation chambers that will outlive their purpose. "These cuttings were meant for the next century's plantings. Now there will be no gardeners left to tend them."
Each conversation is a knife to the heart, but also a confirmation. These people have built their entire existence around the assumption of future generations. Their culture,their knowledge, their fundamental identity as an eternal species—all of it depends on the fertility magic their king sacrificed for one woman's survival.
"How do you feel about the choice?" I ask Captain Sage directly.
Her weathered face remains carefully neutral. "I serve my lord's happiness above all else. If saving you brings him joy, then I am content."
"That's not what I asked."
A pause. Then, quietly: "I would have made the same choice, my lady. Love demands impossible sacrifices sometimes. But understanding a choice and living with its consequences are different things."
The honesty hits harder than accusations would have. She doesn't blame Thorian for choosing me, but she grieves for the future that choice has stolen from her people. It's the difference between forgiveness and acceptance—both present, both painful.
That night, as our daughter sleeps in her bassinet surrounded by flowering vines that respond to her presence, I make my decision.
"I'm going to do it," I tell Thorian quietly.
"Maya, no?—"
"Yes." I turn to face him fully, wanting him to see the certainty in my eyes. "I'm going to sacrifice my divinity to restore their fertility."
"You don't understand what you're giving up." His voice carries desperate urgency. "The enhancement isn't just longevity—it's power, capability, the ability to stand as my equal in ways that matter."
"I'll still be me."
"You'll be mortal. Fragile. Subject to human limitations while I remain unchanged." His hands frame my face with infinitegentleness. "Maya, you could die in forty years, fifty if we're fortunate. I would have to watch you age and sicken and fade while I endure forever."
The pain in his voice nearly breaks my resolve. But then I think of Lady Rosemary's empty nursery, of Captain Sage's ending bloodline, of five thousand Fae facing extinction because their king loved one woman too much.
"Sixty years of authentic partnership is better than centuries of guilt," I say firmly. "We couldn't build a real future on the foundation of their extinction."
"I could live with the guilt. I can't live with losing you."
"You won't lose me." I press my forehead to his, feeling our bond pulse with shared emotion. "You'll have me completely, honestly, for every year we're given. No shadows, no regret, no wondering what we destroyed to be together."
"And when you die? When I'm left to face eternity without you?"
The question hangs in the air like a blade. I think about it seriously, imagining him centuries from now, alone with only memories of our brief time together.
