"His cage prevented me from doing magic, and his potion made me large, but would steal my wings and most of my power," the pixie admitted, moving to fly again for a while.

"You have a love that is mortal?" he asked curiously, weaving through a patch of wildflowers and urging them to bloom and grow before returning to perch on Willy's shoulder. "Mortals die though. They are like the flowers, aren't they? That is what my mother once told me. That they are born small and sweet, then blossom and bloom, filling the world with beauty- until one by one they shed their petals and wilt away. You will not die, fae Willy- what if they wilt while still holding your heart?"