Chapter 77 Mina's Choice
POV: Mina (Age 36 - Two Weeks Before Twins' Birthday)
I watch my children walk away and feel every complicated emotion a mother can carry.
Pride. Fear. Love. Grief. Recognition that they're becoming what prophecy always said. Understanding that I can't protect them from their own destiny.
"They handled it well," Jax says. His ice-blue eyes tracking our children's retreat. "Strategic thinking. Synchronized combat. Political awareness. They're more ready than we expected."
"They're seventeen," I counter. "Seventeen and facing assassination attempts and prophecy and expectations no one should carry at that age. Ready isn't the same as prepared."
Through the tri-bond connecting me to my three mates, I feel their complicated responses.
Logan's protective fury. His wolf demanding we eliminate every threat to our children. His human mind recognizing we can't fight their battles for them.
Asher's strategic calculation. His analysis of what twin heirs just displayed. His recognition that Reformed Council now knows exactly how dangerous the twins are.
Jax's political assessment. His understanding that the twins just became active players in game they barely understand. His concern about consequences they can't foresee.
All three of them loving our children completely. All three of them terrified for them. All three of them recognizing we're approaching point where parenting ends and prophecy begins.
"We have two weeks," I tell them. "Two weeks to teach them everything we can. Two weeks before they have to choose. Two weeks before our family changes forever."
"What do you think they'll choose?" Logan asks. "Unity? Destruction? Transformation?"
"I don't know," I admit. "Rafe leans toward unity. Structure. Order. He thinks politically. Sees bigger picture. Wants to build something lasting."
"Elara leans toward destruction," Asher adds. "Freedom. Chaos. She thinks rebelliously. Sees personal cost of power structures. Wants to tear down anything that limits choice."
"And if they can't agree?" Jax asks quietly. "If the prophecy forces choice and they're split?"
Through the tri-bond I feel all of us carrying the same fear. The prophecy was clear. If twins cannot agree, both die. Oracle line ends. Everything we built collapses.
"They'll agree," I tell them. Force certainty into words. "They're twins. They're bonded. They just synchronized Oracle voices in combat. They'll find common ground."
"You and your Rafe didn't always agree," Logan points out gently. "Twin bond doesn't guarantee identical thinking. Sometimes it just means feeling each other's disagreement more intensely."
He's right. My Rafe and I fought constantly. About strategy. About risks. About when to hide and when to fight. Twin bond meant we felt each other's frustration intimately. Made disagreements more painful rather than less.
But we always found compromise eventually. Always chose each other over being right. Always put twin bond above individual preference.
I have to trust my children will do the same.
"We train them," I decide. "Everything we know. Everything we learned. Everything we wish someone had taught us. Two weeks to give them every advantage."
"Divided focus," Jax suggests. "Each of us takes different aspect of their education. Maximize coverage."
"I'll take combat," Logan says immediately. "They're strong but untrained. Too much instinct. Not enough technique. I can refine their synchronization. Make them more efficient."
"I'll take politics," Jax offers. "They're going to face pack lords regardless of which path they choose. Need to understand how to navigate power structures. How to build alliances. How to recognize threats."
"I'll take strategy," Asher says. "They're thinking tactically but not strategically. Need to understand long-term implications. How to plan beyond immediate crisis. How to build lasting change."
They all look at me. Waiting for my contribution.
"I'll take Oracle training," I tell them. "They're using synchronized voices but they don't understand what they're actually doing. Don't know limits. Don't know costs. Don't know how to wield Oracle power responsibly instead of just effectively."
Through the tri-bond I feel their agreement. Four different trainers. Four different skill sets. Two weeks to prepare twins for choice that defines their generation.
"What about us?" Logan asks. His hand finding mine. "The tri-bond. Do we tell them how it works? How we coordinate? How we've stayed synchronized for eighteen years?"
I hesitate. The tri-bond is our secret. Our private miracle. The thing that keeps us whole when Oracle power tries to consume me. The thing prophecy promised but we had to build ourselves.
"Not yet," I decide. "They're developing their own dynamic. Twin bond is different from tri-bond. Teaching them our methods might interfere with discovering theirs."
"But if they ask?" Asher presses.
"Then we answer honestly," I tell him. "We don't hide. We don't lie. We just don't volunteer information they haven't requested yet."
Through the tri-bond I feel their acceptance. Feel them trusting my judgment even when they might disagree.
Seventeen years of this bond has taught us when to defer. When to discuss. When to simply trust each other's expertise.
We leave the Academy corridor. Return to quarters we've claimed since arriving. Since deciding our children need us close.
The rooms are smaller than what we're used to. Less privacy. Less luxury. But proximity to the twins matters more than comfort.
"Reformed Council will try again," Logan says. Stating obvious but needing to voice it anyway. "They failed with controlled students. They'll come with something worse. Something we can't anticipate."
"Let them," I tell him. My Oracle power rising with words. "They want war with the Oracle who toppled their predecessors? I'll give them war. After the twins choose. After prophecy is fulfilled. After my children are safe from being used as leverage."
Through the tri-bond I feel their complicated responses. Pride in my fierce protectiveness. Concern about what war actually means. Recognition that Reformed Council brought this on themselves.
"We should sleep," Jax suggests. Practical as always. "Two weeks of intensive training requires rest. All of us."
He's right. But sleep feels impossible when my children are targets. When prophecy looms. When Reformed Council is planning next attack.
"I'll take first watch," Logan offers. "Wake me in four hours. We rotate. Keep someone alert at all times."
Old habits. Combat protocols from when we were fighting original Council. When survival required constant vigilance.
We're falling back into those patterns easily. Maybe too easily.
"No watches," I tell them. "We're not at war yet. We're not under siege. We're parents helping our children prepare for coming-of-age ceremony that happens to be prophesied."
Through the tri-bond I feel their skepticism. Feel them recognizing that statement is technically true but functionally inadequate.
"Fine," Logan concedes. "But I'm sleeping near the door. And I'm waking up at any unusual sound."
"Fair," I allow.
We settle into sleeping arrangements. Logan near the entrance. Jax by the window. Asher claiming middle position. All three of them positioned to protect me even in sleep.
Even after seventeen years of peace. Even in Academy with wards and security and safety.
They're still guards before they're lovers. Still protectors before they're partners. Still shaped by the bond that formed when I needed guardians more than mates.
I love them for it. Hate that they need to be that way. Accept that it's who we are.
"Mina," Asher says quietly. "When the twins choose. When prophecy is fulfilled. What happens to us? To the tri-bond? Does it remain or does Oracle magic shift to them?"
I've thought about this. Worried about it. Researched every Oracle text I could find.
"I don't know," I admit. "Prophecy doesn't address it. Oracle magic has only passed to children after mother's death in every documented case. This is unprecedented. Oracle mother alive while Oracle children come of age."
"So we might lose the bond," Jax says. Not question. Just recognition of possibility.
"We might," I confirm. "Or it might remain. Or it might transform. Or something else entirely. Prophecy doesn't give us all the information. Just enough to make us terrified of every possibility."
Through the tri-bond I feel their fear. Not of losing me. Of losing this. The connection. The synchronization. The thing that's kept us whole for seventeen years.
"Whatever happens," I tell them, "we face it together. That's what the bond taught us. That's what seventeen years of this proved. We're stronger together than separate. With or without Oracle magic forcing it."
"Together," Logan agrees.
"Always," Jax confirms.
"Until the end," Asher finishes.
We settle into silence. Into sleep that's lighter than it should be. Into the two weeks we have before everything changes.
I dream of my brother. Of original Rafe who died so I could become this. Who gave me mission and purpose and reason to survive.
In the dream he's sitting beside me in our old temple. Looking seventeen and whole and alive.
"Your children are better than we were," he says. His voice exactly as I remember. "They're starting whole. Starting together. Starting with support we never had."
"They're facing prophecy at seventeen," I tell him. "Same as we did. Same impossible choices. Same crushing weight."
"But they're not alone," Rafe points out. "They have you. Have three fathers. Have each other. Have Academy full of teachers. Have support system we only dreamed of."
He's right. My children have advantages we never had. Resources. Training. Family who understands what they're facing.
"I'm terrified," I admit to dream-Rafe. "Terrified they'll choose wrong. Terrified they'll die if they can't agree. Terrified of being mother watching children face destiny that might destroy them."
"You survived your destiny," Rafe says gently. "Trust them to survive theirs."
"What if they can't?" I ask. "What if prophecy demands more than they can give? What if I lose them like I lost you?"
Dream-Rafe takes my hand. "Then you'll grieve and you'll survive and you'll keep going. Same as you did when you lost me. Same as you've done every day since. That's what Oracles do. We survive. We endure. We continue."
I wake to morning light. To Logan breathing steadily near the door. To Jax and Asher both awake and watching me with concern.
"Dream?" Asher asks. He always knows.
"My brother," I confirm. "Telling me to trust our children."
Through the tri-bond I feel their understanding. Feel them recognizing that I'm processing. Feel them giving me space while staying present.
"Two weeks," I tell them. "Two weeks to teach everything. Then we trust them. Then we let prophecy happen. Then we face whatever comes next."
"Together," they confirm in unison.
I stand. Prepare for day one of training. Prepare to teach my children everything I know. Prepare to trust them with futures I can't control.
Prepare to be mother instead of Oracle. Parent instead of teacher. Support instead of shield.
It's the hardest thing I've ever done. Harder than toppling Councils. Harder than surviving wars. Harder than facing prophecy at eighteen myself.
Letting my children face theirs while I watch from sidelines.
But I'll do it. Because they need space to become themselves. Need room to choose their own paths. Need freedom to be more than just their mother's legacy.
Two weeks until prophecy demands choice.
Two weeks until my children become whatever they're meant to be.
Two weeks until everything changes.
I walk toward the training rooms where the twins are probably already waiting.
Toward teaching them everything I know.
Toward trusting them with futures I can barely imagine.
Toward letting go.
Even though every instinct screams to hold tighter.
That's what being mother means. Loving enough to let go. Protecting enough to let them risk. Caring enough to let them choose.
Even when their choices terrify me.
Especially then.