None of those reflections tried to pull him in.
They waited.
Each one showed a future that could work—and a cost it would demand. Eternal balance without change. Freedom without direction. Power without a center. They were not lies. That made them dangerous.
Asher didn't stop at them.
He watched how the space reacted as he passed. It didn't resist. It didn't invite. It adjusted just enough to stay coherent. The threshold was responding to judgment, not force.
That told him the Fairy King had already made at least one choice here.
Ahead, the stabilizing presence grew stronger. The space was firmer now, not solid, but decided. Something had been accepted.
Asher reached a clearing that wasn't really a place—just a moment that had settled.
The Fairy King stood there.
Not seated.
Not restrained.
Not elevated.
Standing, as if he had chosen to remain in motion even while still.
