Fifteen days left felt like both an eternity and no time at all.
The dynamic in the palace shifted after the Void Lord's proclamation. Pryce no longer appeared at night. No more stolen touches during sleep. No more mandatory dinners. He'd simply... withdrawn.
"Where is he?" Rhys asked on day sixteen, finding the absence more unsettling than the presence had been.
"Giving you space," Liam said, not looking up from his research. "Which is what you wanted, right?"
"Yes. But it's suspicious. Like he's planning something."
"Or he's actually respecting your boundaries for once."
Rhys wasn't convinced.
That night, unable to sleep despite Liam's presence, Rhys wandered the palace. He found himself in the master bedroom, staring at Elara's unfinished portrait.
"You're awake," Pryce's voice came from behind him.
Rhys didn't turn. "I could say the same, but you don't sleep."
"No. I haunt." Pryce moved to stand beside him. "Do you know why I never finished this painting?"
"Because you died."
"Because I was afraid." Pryce touched the canvas, fingers passing through. "Those hands were meant to be holding flowers. Reaching toward me, offering them. A symbol of her love freely given. But I kept putting it off, telling myself I'd finish it when I was sure. When I knew she wouldn't leave."
"And you never were sure."
"No. I loved her desperately, but I never trusted that love. That was my real crime—not the violence that came after, but the lack of faith that came before." Pryce looked at Rhys. "I'm not going to pressure you. These last fifteen days, you're free to decide without my interference."
"Why?"
"Because the Void Lord was right. If you choose me, it has to be real. Not coerced, not manipulated, not even seduced. You have to look at everything I am—the good, the terrible, the broken—and choose me anyway. Otherwise, it's just another version of the curse."
Rhys studied Pryce's face. For once, he looked... peaceful. Resigned.
"What happens to you if I choose freedom?"
"I cease to exist. Finally, after three hundred years, I get to rest." Pryce's smile was sad. "Honestly? That doesn't sound so bad anymore. I'm tired, Rhys. Tired of being trapped, of being the villain, of repeating my worst moments forever."
"And if I choose you?"
"Then we're bound eternally. You'd become like me—not quite alive, not quite dead. Existing in this palace, together, forever. You'd never age. Never die. But you'd also never be truly free."
"That's not a choice. That's just two different prisons."
"Yes." Pryce turned away. "Which is why I expect you to choose freedom. It's what Elara would have chosen if I'd given her the chance. It's what you should choose."
He started to fade.
"Pryce, wait—"
But he was gone, leaving Rhys alone with questions that had no good answers.