Six hours until midnight. Rhys found Pryce in the master bedroom, staring at Elara's unfinished portrait.
"I have something for you," Pryce said. He gestured, and the portrait... changed.
Elara's hands were suddenly complete. Finished. Holding purple wildflowers, reaching toward the viewer with a smile that was pure joy.
"I finally finished it," Pryce said quietly. "Took me three hundred years, but I finally had the courage to paint her hands reaching for love instead of pulling away in fear."
Rhys stared at the painting. "It's beautiful."
"It's how I should have seen her all along. Not as something to possess, but as someone offering a gift I could accept or refuse." Pryce turned to face him. "That's what I want to give you now. A choice. No pressure. No manipulation. Just... a choice."
"What if I choose wrong?"
"There is no wrong. There's just what you need." Pryce smiled sadly. "And I think we both know what that is."
"Do we?"
"You need freedom, Rhys. You need to live. And I need to finally, finally face the consequences of my actions and accept the ending I deserve."
"Which is?"
"Non-existence. Peace. An end to suffering—mine and yours." Pryce touched the painting one last time. "That's my gift to you. Permission to let me go without guilt."