Chapter 7 — Dawn and the Choice
Dawn came quietly.
Outside, the sky turned pale pink and gold. A rare, soft hush wrapped the neighborhood, as if even California was holding its breath.
Eidothea stood by the window, watching the light change.
“It’s almost time,” she whispered.
Lavender’s heart tightened. “Do you have to go?”
Eidothea didn’t answer right away.
Grand-mère Catherine approached, placing a warm shawl around Eidothea’s shoulders. “One night,” Grand-mère murmured, “was what the world offered you.”
Eidothea swallowed. “Yes.”
Grand-mère’s eyes shone. “But you offered the world something different.”
Eidothea’s voice shook. “I don’t know if I can be human forever. I don’t know if the curse will return.”
Lavender stepped closer. “Then we keep choosing love.”
Eidothea turned toward the family—this messy, beautiful circle of warmth and survival. She looked at Kadira and Mateo, hands intertwined. She looked at Flint’s steady presence beside Lavender. She looked at Nicholas and Maëlle, watching their son with gentle pride. She looked at Grand-mère Catherine, who seemed to carry a whole history of miracles in her smile.
“No one has ever looked at me like this,” Eidothea whispered.
Grand-mère Catherine said, “Then let it change you.”
Eidothea closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she looked certain.
“I want to try,” she said. “Not for a night. For a life.”
The air shimmered.
A faint gold light moved through the room—Queen Calafia’s presence, unseen but undeniable.
A voice like warm thunder spoke softly in the spirit of the house: “Then let the miracle remain.”
Eidothea gasped as warmth spread through her hands, through her skin, through her bones.
Lavender stared.
Eidothea’s body did not fade.
The dawn did not steal her.
The curse did not return.
Eidothea looked down at her hands, laughing through tears. “I’m still here.”
Thor jumped up and down. “She’s still here! Mommy! She’s still here!”
Maëlle wiped her eyes, smiling. “Yes, baby.”
Nicholas exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years. “Well,” he said softly, “that’s one Christmas story for the history books.”
Grand-mère Catherine kissed Eidothea’s cheek. “Welcome to the family,” she whispered.
Eidothea’s voice cracked. “Thank you.”
Lavender touched her charm again.
Some magic doesn’t glitter.
Some magic stays.
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