Cyrius's POV
I stood in silence, the weight of my decision pressing against my chest like a boulder.
I had chosen death—not just for myself, but for my brothers too. A final act to preserve balance. To protect what nature now sought to destroy: Hazel and her babies.
And strangely… it felt right.
I and my brothers—triplets bound by blood and fate—had tainted her in ways she may never recover from. The three of us had wrecked her spirit, tangled her in our darkness, and now she clings to what's left of her joy: those children. I couldn't take them from her again. I wouldn't.
She's lost too much already.
And now, as I held the twins—those fragile, sleeping embodiments of light and lineage—I knew what had to be done. If I must vanish from this world so that she may never lose them again, then so be it.
Across the room, Dahlia watched me with a smirk curling her lips. Her gaze glittered with amusement… or power. Maybe both.
I don't trust Dahlia. Only a fool would.
But I need her.
