Chapter 58; Resolve

-Wanda Pov-

'Finally…. I'm finally back….' Wanda felt as if she could burst into tears as she entered the recovery room where she had spent so much time with Timmy. The familiar bedroom was empty, but she could feel the sense of him all over the room.

Evidence of his play, his studies, and his simply living dotted the room despite Nova's almost fastidious attention to tidiness. A stray toy car rested beneath the desk, a crumpled sheet of paper with half-finished doodles peeked out from the trash bin, and a H.P Lovecraft graphic novel laid open on the right end table next to the bed.

Her brows furrowed as she spotted somemedicine that was on the end table next to the bed on the left side. She did not recognize it as any type that had been given to Timmy before, and her stomach flip-flopped.

Had Nova taken it upon himself to medicate Timmy without even consulting her? Thistledust, who had followed her into the room, noticed her gaze toward the bottles and cleared his throat.

"Those belong to Nova."

She breathed a sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing for a brief moment, but her mind quickly filled with questions. What was Nova taking, and why? Was it for something serious, or merely a health supplement or sleeping aid? She hesitated, torn between respecting his privacy and her growing need to understand more about what had been happening in her absence, and about who she was up against. "Nova's?"

"It is not my place to talk about Nova's medical needs," Thistledust remarked dismissively, though not rudely. "Not that I blame you for wondering, but you wouldn't discuss Timmy's medication, without his permission, with someone else, would you?"

"No." That was fair; if Nova needed medicine for some condition, that was his own business. It probably wasn't anything too serious, though. After all, if it had been some sensitive secret, he wouldn't have left the pills out in the open like that.

She went over to the right side of the bed where Timmy's graphic novel laid face down, opened to the last chapter. It was a compilation of several of the Lovecraft stories featuring Randolph Carter, and ending with the Silver Key. The last story was where it was laid open to, but she got the sense that rather than having been left-off there, that it was this story in particular that had been read and re-read. She searched her memory to try and remember what that particular story was about, but failed to do so. It wasn't one of the stories Timmy usually re-read; his favorite story featuring Randolph Carter was likely "The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath," and it was one she knew made up the bulk of this particular book.

She glanced at the the two containers of medicine that was on this side of the bed; thankfully, she recognized both. One was the Methylphenidate that Timmy took for his ADHD, and the red, gummy bear-tasting medication that he was given for pain. Having only seen it being administered to him in capfuls and never having seen the actual container before, she lifted the fancy bottle and examined it.

In gold lettering engraved into the glass was the words 'Soothing Syrup.' On the back of the container was a list of side effects that she hadn't been informed about before, though glancing them over, they appeared to be mundane: mild drowsiness, slight euphoria, reduced anxiety, and temporarily slowed reaction times. All things that weren't surprising considering it was a painkiller. But she furrowed her brows—it seemed that continuous or excessive use of it could result in a slight but temporary decrease in inhibitions and mild to moderate bouts of brain fog.

The idea nagged at her—couldn't those side effects, when combined, make someone more suggestible? The thought unsettled her further as she considered Timmy's vulnerability. He was in a lot of pain, relying on the medication to endure it, and she trusted that he genuinely needed it. But still, could Nova have used those side effects, even unintentionally, to influence his decisions or thoughts?

"It's a harmless medication," Thistledust commented as he watched her read the container. "But, like all painkillers, it can become addictive if you misuse it. Try to use it only on pain that can't be soothed through other means. If you get him relying on it, but decide not to make him a Kinder, he'll have a very rough time enduring without it."

"Oh, I see. Thanks." She put the container down, surprised at the advice. She was grateful, getting Timmy addicted to something he couldn't get outside of Fey world was definitely not something she wanted to do. Still, she could not help but be annoyed at how making Timmy a Kinder was still being framed as a 'decision' rather than a last resort. Yet, despite her frustration, she couldn't dismiss the gratitude she felt for the insight—though a spark of annoyance flashed through her about how neither Piper nor Nova, who administered the medicine in the first place, had offered her such a warning.

"According to what we last saw on the video, they're outside." Thistledust was standing by the balcony, waiting for her. A part of her wanted to question why he had followed her in, but considering what he had done to the Tooth Fairy for angering him, she'd rather not risk it and just assume he had come in for no other reason than to pick up his Kinder, Walter.

"Yes…" She wanted to go to Timmy's side so much, but… she paused, looking toward the nursery door. The Heart-Soul…. was it still suffering? Was it...crying? Thistledust gave her a dubious look.

"The Heart-Soul may still be in an upset state. It might not be such a good idea to go in there."

"Still…. I feel like I ought to at least check on it. It was so sad and upset last I saw it… it is just a newborn baby, after all…."

"Yes….that is true; a newborn soul living its first life. Humans souls...they are so beautiful. There is something about them that, for a Fey, is just...so soothing to watch, mesmerizing even." Thistledust opened the curtains in order to gaze out at the butterflies fluttering around in the night garden, as well as the fireflies. "You know, I do wonder how humans came to be..."

She had not thought too deeply the first time she had seen them, but…these were all the souls of humans who had died within Fey World and were now trapped here.

"I never thought about it much myself." She admitted. "I guess, for me, they were always there—a part of the world."

"For me too; but I heard from my mother…" Thistledust's nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. It seemed he truly reviled the woman who gave birth to and then abandoned him. "That Fey lived on Earth first long before any human, and that humans slowly started appearing—their numbers however apparently exploded during the Mana Wars and sadly, the Fey took this as a sign that they were tools sent to them to make use of."

"Why would they just assume that?" She gritted her teeth, angrily.

"They weren't the only ones; other magical creatures tried to make use of them too…." Thistledust sighed and opened the balcony door, holding out his finger; almost immediately one of the glowing pink butterflies lighted on it; a medium-sized butterfly, spots and patterns of color dotted its wings in beautiful pictures…it had been well into its many lives before its cycle of reincarnation had been stopped.

"However, humans weren't very compatible with other magical creatures. Their control and ability to manipulate humans were very limited, plus human blood was deadly to them. It is deadly for us too….but not to the same degree. We will suffer terrible burns from it…and over exposer to it will kill us, but for some other magical species…a few drops of human blood on a blade was enough to cause instant death with a single slash."

She shuddered, glad she had not been alive in those days. "Yes, the history books mention that much…"

"Moreover…." Thistledust's brows furrowed. "Fey became curious about how humans bred. As you know, Fey and Fairies alike reproduce by combining their magic with that of their partner and letting it grow inside of one of them—but, apparently a few Fey, seeing how much pleasure humans derived from their reproductive rituals tried it out with them out of curiosity—and ended up discovering that they were capable of breeding offspring with humans. This discovery lead to another-that even pure-blooded Fey gained some resistance to the effects of human blood if, as babies, they were nursed with human milk. This was the main thing that brought about the massive kidnappings of humans…" Thistledust gently stroked the butterfly on his hand, tenderly. "Many of these stray souls you see wandering homeless through Fey World werehumans kidnapped during the Mana Wars and then disposed of when they were no longer of use. Over half of these poor souls were taken as nursemaids and then, when they ran out of milk to feed the babies, or there were no more babies needing to be fed, their blood was used to coat our weapons, allowing us to kill our enemies with ease. In those days, humans were…livestock."

"…Why are you telling me this?" She wrapped her arms around her stomach about why Thistledust had suddenly gone into a history lesson, and such a horrible one.

"….Human souls can't stand our magic; it can infect them like a virus, it can trap them, it can enslave them—moreover, the Heart-Souls reincarnate again and again, how many of them had experienced death at the hands of a Fey more than once? It's ingrained in them that we are dangerous—we are their enemies and yet…." Thistledust stared at the butterfly still alighted on his hand. "They are drawn to us, like moths to flames….though, I sometimes wonder if we are not actually the moths being drawn to the flame." Thistledust chuckled. "In any case, I suppose I'm just telling you to keep your guard up around the Heart-Soul….and around your Timmy too….because humans have a way of making us Fey adore them, and yet, even our Kinders can't last forever….and heart-break over a human is even more deadly to us Fey than their blood. These souls...these humans...they can make us love them so much that it's capable of destroying us..."

"Do you…mean that figuratively or…."

"No, literally." Thistledust quickly glanced away from the garden view to look behind him, but his gaze seemed to rest past her, and she looked over her shoulder to see that what he was looking at—it was Nova's bottle of medication. When she looked back at Thistledust, he was gazing out the window again. "If a Fey falls in love with a human too deeply, and I mean—romantically, maternally, paternally, or fraternally, it has a chance of turning into an illness that slowly erodes a Fey's soul...there is medication, but it can still become deadly if the heartache isn't soothed… somehow."

Had Thistledust intentionally drawn her attention to Nova's pills? Was this a warning about her father-in-law's desperation or a calculated attempt to evoke sympathy for him? Either way, it had worked. She felt manipulated, like a violin passed from one player to another. Thistledust, Bea, Dazzle, Ivy, Piper, Nova—all playing their own tunes, but the only melody she would follow was her own; trouble was, ever since her Linking…her tune had become discordant and she did not know what to think anymore, but she knew one thing.

She loved Timmy. She wanted to protect him, to care for him—that was what truly mattered now, the thought she had to hold on to.

"Thank you for the warning," she said firmly, her voice unwavering. "But avoiding Timmy to shield myself from heartbreak would only leave me with more regret. I'd rather treasure every moment I have with him, no matter how fleeting." She smiled, pretending not to notice his glance at Nova's medication. "I'd be content knowing that I had spend all the time I could with him, making precious memories."

"Bravado," Thistledust remarked, his own smile faint but knowing.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, crossing her arms and scowling at him.

"If you and Timmy share the highest bond level, then you must love him as deeply as I love my Walter. And for me, even imagining Walter's death is unbearably painful. But at least I know his soul will stay with me when that time comes. For you…" Thistledust paused, his gaze sharp, "to lose Timmy forever—the very thought must be devastating. If you were to become a Fey after having lost him, you'd sicken and die. Nova, seeing how much you love Timmy, must be worried about that happening to you."

Her breath hitched, and words failed her.

"For beings like us," Thistledust continued, "immortal as we are, there is nothing more terrifying than death…except, of course, oblivion."

His words sliced through her defenses, and she was left exposed, her emotions plain as day.

The thought of Timmy's eventual death, even one brought on by natural old age, filled her with a dread she couldn't shake. The idea of keeping him with her, of preserving his soul beyond his body's passing, was a temptation that clawed at her. Yet, she had already resolved never to make him a Kinder unless there was no other way to save him.

She wanted him to live, to grow, to thrive—even if that meant he might one day move on from her. She refused to selfishly keep him tethered to her side, robbing him of his own life just to ease her own pain.

But Thistledust was right about one thing: for immortals like her, the thought of oblivion was the worst fate imaginable. If Timmy were to die before his Heart-Soul could be returned to his body, his very existence would be erased—gone entirely, forever. The idea of that kind of nothingness chilled her to her core. To her, there was no fate worse than ceasing to be. Even being transformed into a piece of living fruit would be preferable to such utter annihilation.

She took a deep breath, willing herself not to show any weakness. Wanda, you've thought about this before. Don't let him get under your skin, she reminded herself firmly.

"I won't lie," she said at last, her voice steady but low. "I fear the day he might die with every fiber of my being. I honestly want to think that having him live a happy life will be enough to content me into accepting his eventual passing...but who knows how I might feel when that time comes. Right now is not the time for me to be thinking about his death;what matters to me is seeing him live."

She had meant it metaphorically—watching her boy overcome his struggles, rediscover his joy, and build a life he could be proud of. But Thistledust, taking her words literally, nodded solemnly.

"Yes, of course, you are right. His condition is very unstable… for now, your utmost focus must be on his recovery. Dwelling on death would be like surrendering before the battle is even fought." His kind smile and soft, compassionate gaze were unmistakably genuine. "Right now, you must think about life. No matter how bad things may seem, just keep your hope alive. If you give up too soon, you might lose him before you have to."

His words carried a sincerity that struck her deeply. There was no trace of manipulation in his tone, no hint of playing on her emotions. Yet it was precisely the honesty in his misunderstanding of her meaning that gave his words a weight they might not have had otherwise.

Her heart tightened. She had been warned that Timmy's condition was fragile, but was it truly so precarious that even Fey outside his medical care doubted his chances? How low were his odds of recovery? Were things bleaker than she had let herself believe?

"…If…you were in my place...how much…hope would you—" She tried to choose her words carefully, but Thistledust raised a hand, shaking his head.

"If you're asking what I think his odds are, I truly don't know. I have no medical knowledge beyond basic first aid. What I can say with certainty is that Piper will do everything in her power to ensure he survives. She's extraordinarily prideful, and failure is not something she tolerates gracefully." Thistledust's expression darkened, as though recalling an unpleasant memory—perhaps something tied to the incident she'd heard whispers about, involving Althea and her Kinder, Jacobe. "And then there's Nova. He's adopted the boy as his grandson, and that's a man who will give his all for his family, so you can bet he'll do whatever it takes to ensure Timmy lives."

She blinked, her hands trembling slightly. The idea of Nova, with all his intense energy and questionable motives, doing 'whatever it takes,' sent a chill through her. Furthermore the way the word Thistledust had used—adopted. It wasn't just a term of endearment, was it? Something about the way he used it sounded-Binding.

"…If a Fey adopts someone…" she began hesitantly, her voice faltering. "Is it… I mean… is it just a word? Or does it mean… something more?"

"Ah." Thistledust sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his demeanor shifting to something more serious. "Nova leapt on the opportunity without explaining the fine print, did he? Well, you see, if both parties willingly consent to giving each other a family address—parent, grandparent, sibling—it creates a binding connection. The child is officially claimed by that Fey, and no other Fey, aside from the Queens, can override it unless the adopting Fey renounces the bond."

Her heart sank. "Claimed?"

Thistledust nodded, seemingly oblivious to her despair in the matter. "Yes. With how few Kinder there are left, you can imagine that there is much envy for those who have one. The Adoption process prevents having a Kinder's heart stolen away by another Fey. For example, there was a Fey from one of our sister Rings who tried to steal a Kinder away from it's parent by giving them food laced with their blood and flesh. It didn't work. Yes, they made the Kinder love them, but they could not raise the child's affection for them higher than what the child felt for their Fey parent. Also, a Fey parent can erase any unwanted affections away from their Kinder, so that way, even if one of our Kinders gets kidnapped and fed blood and flesh by another Fey, the original Fey-parent can always take them back."

"Then… Nova has—!" Her voice cracked, a mix of horror and confusion overwhelming her. "Has he...given Timmy his blood or flesh then? Has he used magic to take Timmy from me!?"

"Calm down. You don't have to give a human child—or a Kinder—your essence in order to adopt them," Thistledust reassured her gently, holding up a hand. "And the contract that governs this room prevents Nova from doing anything of the sort. Whatever affection Timmy has gained for Nova is unlikely to have been induced by magical means."

"Then why would he insist that Timmy call him Grandpa if he didn't intend to use food or drink laced with his essence?" she demanded, frustration and unease bubbling in her tone. "And why adopt him?"

"I can't speak for Nova," Thistledust admitted, "but it might have been to protect him."

"Protect him?" She echoed, indignant. "How does that protect him?"

"By adopting Timmy as his grandson, Nova ensures that no other Fey—aside from the Queens—can raise their bond with the boy above the affection he feels for him as his 'grandpa'. And by extension, that protects your claim on the child."

"My claim?" She repeated, stunned.

"You've adopted him, haven't you?"

Her breath hitched. "I… adopted him?"

"You call him your son, don't you? And he calls you Mom. That counts as an adoption contract, even if you're a fairy." Thistledust's gaze softened slightly. "Oh, I see. You had no idea that this was a method of claiming a human child... It was pure love that had you ask the boy to call you mother..."

"Yes...I really do love him as a son, and Timmy loves me as a mother...I wasn't trying to claim him, I just...wanted to express how much I love him...what he means to me..."

"That makes your claim on him precious; and likely why Nova wanted to protect it. As a fairy, the magic backing your claim on him is weak and could have been broken by a Fey's magic. But Nova, being a pure-blood and a green fairy at that, is immensely powerful. You might not know this, but power runs through family connection here amongst the Fey. So even though you are weak and still a fairy, as long as your part of Nova's family, you can use his magic to empower your adoption contract and prevent another Fey from stealing Timmy from you."

"So that means..."

"That by positioning himself as 'Grandpa,' Nova secured his daughter-in-law's earlier claim of 'mother,' and not even Nova himself would be able to use magic to make Timmy love him more than he loves you. Also, this way even if another Fey were to try and fed Timmy their essence, they couldn't make him see them as his mother—unless Nova relinquished his claim as a grandfather or if you stopped being his daughter-in-law."

She felt her head spin, her thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. She tried to process the implications of what Thistledust was saying, but each piece seemed to tangle with the next. She did not know if she should feel gratitude or rage, relief or despair; her mind was knotted so she focused on the one thought that was clear. "All this talk of who has the right to claim a child…and using magiv to win their affections-! it's…! It's just so-so-!"

"Disgusting," Thistledust interrupted, his tone sharp and bitter. His eyes shifted to the window, watching butterflies flit lazily through the garden outside.

His words gave her pause. She hadn't expected him to agree so readily, with how much he had debated to be in favor of making children Kinders, earlier. Seeing her expression, he crossed his arms, his jaw tightening as if bracing himself. "Don't get me wrong," he continued. "For me, saving a child's life is what matters most. And I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with being a Kinder. For many, many children, they wouldn't have been able to survive without Fey intervention. Having them safe and happy is what matters, but it's the way most Fey view Kinders…" He exhaled sharply, his voice tinged with anger. "That's what disgusts me. Too many see Kinders as things to own. Something to take care of and adore, sure—but always something beneath them. Even the most loving Fey parent scoffs at the idea of viewing their Kinder as an equal."

She stared at him, stunned. There was a rawness in his voice she hadn't expected, a crack in the otherwise self-assured persona he carried. "Walter is my little brother," Thistledust said firmly. "He's not someone I own, neither is he my helpless dependent. I earn his love, I don't force it. Also, he may have no magic, but he is not—and never will be—inferior to me."

The words hit her like a bolt of clarity. That was it. That was the feeling that had been gnawing at her whenever she thought of the Fey. They loved human children, yes—but they viewed them as lesser beings. It was pure condescension cloaked in affection.

The realization settled over her like a heavy weight, both clarifying and disconcerting. Of course, the Fey adored children—it was their nature. But it wasn't a selfless love. It was a love that demanded dependency, that thrived on a dynamic where the Fey were always the rescuers, always the essential guardians. It was a love that sought control under the guise of care.

Nova's affection for Timmy was tainted by such feelings, even though he probably did not even realize it. He saw Timmy as fragile as someone perpetually in need of saving—a child who, no matter how much progress he made, could never truly stand on his own. That wasn't love. That was a cage built from good intentions and gilded with affection, and she couldn't let Nova trap him within it.

Yes, Timmy needed help. She didn't deny that. But saving him didn't mean isolating him from his troubles or wrapping him in a bubble of protection. Saving him meant standing by his side, being the steady hand that held him upright while he learned to overcome his struggles. It meant trusting that one day, he could let go—and that when he did, he'd soar.

And she was that hand—not Nova. Not any Fey. It was her responsibility, her love, and her belief in Timmy that would guide him through his troubles. She wouldn't let anyone—not even a being as powerful as Nova—rob him of the chance to grow into his own strength.

"You're right," she said softly, her voice gaining strength with each word. The weight of her realization steadying her. "No one who truly loves a child as their own would see them as something beneath them. That kind of love…it's what you'd show to…a pet."

Thistledust didn't flinch at the comparison. Instead, he sighed and turned away from the window, his expression unreadable. "Yes, that pretty much sums it up," he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation. "If the Fey could learn to think of Kinders as equals—truly equals—then there would be no downside to a child becoming a Kinder at all. They could live safe, happy lives, free from the constant marginalization of being seen as lesser."

Wanda's gaze lingered on him, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. She could see the sincerity in his words, the kernel of truth that made her almost want to agree. But she couldn't. Not fully. Because even if Kinders were treated as equals—if they were loved, respected, and given the same opportunities as Fey—there was still something deeply wrong with the entire concept.

"Maybe…" she started slowly, her words measured, "but doesn't becoming a Kinder take something away from them? Even if they're treated as equals, doesn't it strip them of their autonomy, their sense of purpose? It takes away their chance to grow and become more than what they are. It defines their entire existence as something tied to the Fey. That's not a life—it's a gilded cage."

Thistledust's brow furrowed, and for a moment, he looked as though he might argue. But instead, he simply let out another sigh, this one filled with weariness. "Perhaps. Or perhaps what they lose is no greater than what they gain. Safety, immortality, a world where they're adored—what parent wouldn't want that for their child?"

"A parent who wants their child to live a full life," She countered firmly. "To stumble, to struggle, to fail—and to rise again stronger for it. That's what makes a life worth living. And taking that away…no matter how good your intentions, it's still taking something irreplaceable."

Thistledust didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied her, his eyes flickering with a mix of respect and something else—something more complicated. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"I do," she said without hesitation. "Timmy doesn't need perfection. He doesn't need a world that wraps him in safety and tells him he'll never have to face hardship again. He needs a chance to find his own strength. And I won't let anyone—not even Nova—take that away from him."

"There is truth in that, but you also need to admit that there are many cases in which the children can't find their strength or the obstacles they are up against are too great-the odds stacked against them, too unfair-what then?"

That was a painful question, but if she failed to answer, all her earlier words would be reduced to nothing more then pretty sounding poetry and so she steeled herself and answered, honestly.

"Every child is different, their limits and what they can endure vary. But if we're speaking of Timmy alone, then I will say this: I will do everything in my power to help him. And if the day comes when I must leave his side, yet I have reason to believe he'd be left unhappy… I will do whatever it takes to keep his smile from fading."

That was her resolve. She didn't know whether it was right or wrong, but she was determined to follow her heart and do what she believed was best for Timmy, and as long as her boy could continue to smile-she wouldn't have regrets, no matter what decision she made.

Authors note: This chapter is a little shorter than I first intended, but some life stuff got in the way and prevented me from writing as much as I normally would. I did not want to go too long without an update however (I try every Sunday, or second Sunday, to put out a new chapter) so I decided to split the chapter in two halves so that I'd get a new part out today. The second half will be out by next Sunday. Until then, thank you for reading Broken Child. It means a lot to me that so many people are enjoying and reviewing. Thank you all for your continued support!