Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers
Chapter 81: Sacrifice

Chapter 81: Sacrifice

**~ Cyrius’s POV ~**

They told me to stand back as they lit the candles around the half-fallen tree—where they had placed the babies. The air shifted, thick with incantations and strange power. The atmosphere was no longer natural; it had turned darker, heavier.

Then they started crying.

First Heather, then her brother.

Sharp, guttural cries. Cries that pierced through me like daggers.

I stepped forward immediately, heart racing, but one of the witches held me back.

"Don’t worry," she said quickly, her voice calm but her eyes watching me closely. "They’re fine. It’s just the beginning of the sacrifice. I’m sure they’ll survive it."

Survive it? The hell did she mean by that?

She could see it in my eyes—I wasn’t playing around. I didn’t care how powerful their little spell was. I wasn’t about to let these babies suffer.

They’re like mine now.. I’ve been with them since birth. I know their cries, habits, what makes them calm down, and what triggers them. I kept my damn sanity because of them.

But the witches didn’t stop. They began circling the tree stump, forming a tight barrier around the twins until I could no longer see them. Only their cries echoed back to me, muffled, but real. Painful.

I gritted my teeth.

"Calm down, Cyrius," I whispered to myself. "This is for the greater good. Think about the future. Think about the power."

But my heart was pounding like war drums. My whole body was on edge.

"Are you sure nothing’s going to happen to them?" I turned to the witch who was still standing beside me.

"I’m sure," she nodded softly. "You just need to breathe. If you need a break, take one—"

And then Heather let out a scream. Not just a cry.

A scream and it was high-pitched. Guttural. Painful. Before I even realized it, I snapped.

I shoved past the witches, ignoring their protests. I tore into the circle and grabbed both babies from the half-tree, wrapping them into my arms. Their cries began to settle immediately as I cradled them against my chest.

"You idiot!" one of the witches shouted. "You ruined the sacrifice! We’ll have to start all over!"

"I don’t give a damn," I snapped, glaring at them. "I said no pain. I meant it."

Their chanting stopped. I walked away from the circle, still holding the twins close. Their bodies were warm against mine, still a little shaken, but safe.

I found a quiet patch under a tree and sat down. With one arm holding both of them close, I reached into the small cloth pouch at my side and brought out the coconut milk. Heather nuzzled her face into my chest while her brother—still unnamed—looked up at me with that familiar frown.

"Shh," I whispered, feeding them slowly. "You’re alright. I’ve got you."

A quiet voice sounded behind me. "You’re quite the passionate uncle."

I turned, already on edge, but it was the same witch from earlier. The one who had first brought me to the coven. She sat beside me without asking.

"I’m not here to harm them," she added quickly, raising her hands. "If anything, I should be afraid of you. You’re stronger than me right now."

"Then you shouldn’t be sitting so close," I muttered.

She smiled faintly. "I’m Davina, by the way." She offered a hand, then noticed mine were full.

"Ah, right. You’re a bit occupied." I said nothing.

She studied me and the twins. "You’re... really good at this," she admitted. "That was, you know, until you kidnapped them. But they’re quiet. Calm. Well-fed. You’d be a great father."

"These are Hazel’s babies," I said after a pause. "She’s my mate. That makes me their dad. Technically."

Davina tilted her head. "So you named them?"

I nodded. "The girl is Heather."

"Oh my god," she breathed, "It fits her so well."

I looked down at the boy, still unsure. "I haven’t named him yet."

"What about... Sebastian?" she offered..."Sebastian?" I echoed.

"Yeah," she shrugged. "It feels right. That scowl? He’s definitely going to break hearts when he grows up."

I huffed. "I’ll think about it."

She nodded, then turned serious. "Cyrius... I want you to understand something. We’re witches, yes—but that doesn’t mean we’re cruel. We’re not trying to harm the babies. The scream you heard from Heather? That wasn’t pain—it was power. We were removing magic from them. Draining some of it. They’re too powerful right now. If we don’t channel it out, it could consume them before they even grow teeth."

I swallowed hard. She was right. They looked fine now. Breathing normally. Warm. Safe.

"It’s just... a little pain," Davina said gently. "They’ll survive it. But you—" she looked me dead in the eye, "you’re going to need to decide if you’re strong enough to finish what you started. Because this won’t be the last sacrifice."

I looked down at the babies.

Heather. Sebastian?

I wasn’t sure yet what I’d become. A Crescent? A vampire? A villain?

Davina helped me carry the boy while I took Heather into my arms. As expected, she wouldn’t let anyone else touch her—she was stubborn, just like her mother. We returned to the altar, and the witches scowled the moment they saw me.

"I hope you won’t interrupt the spell again," one of them snapped, glaring at me.

I didn’t bother replying. My eyes stayed locked on the half tree as we laid the babies back down. Heather whimpered slightly, and it took everything in me not to snatch her back into my arms again.

The witches began chanting. The wind shifted sharply. The atmosphere turned electric and heavy—like the very air was pulsing. I stiffened. Something didn’t feel right. I sensed a presence. Multiple, even.

I turned to Davina beside me. Her bow was already in her hand, her fingers tense against the string. Her eyes darted toward the trees, and I followed her gaze.

"Wolves," she said under her breath. "They’ve found us."

My chest tightened. "How?" I hissed. "We cloaked the perimeter."

Davina’s jaw clenched. "It must be that damn Aurora... or that Crescent bitch in the High House."

The High House. My old home. My prison. "They’d figure it out eventually," I muttered. "Caspian’s probably with them. Maybe even Cayden."

Davina nodded grimly and gave a quiet signal. I watched the witches spring into motion—scaling trees, blending into the shadows. I joined her atop one of the thicker branches, crouching low with my eyes sweeping across the forest below.

"Have they spotted us?" she whispered.

"No. Not yet," I said. "But they will."

We stayed there in silence, waiting. Watching. Then I caught it—the scent. That familiar softness laced with cedar and ash. Caspian. My chest stirred.

Of all my brothers, he was the one I once called a friend. Out of the three of us, I had always preferred him. And yet he knew... he knew they were going to dagger me. And he helped anyway.

That betrayal had buried itself so deep, it sometimes felt more painful than the dagger that pierced my heart.

I gripped the arrow tighter. The trees below rustled, and then I saw them—wolves in their humanoid forms creeping through the underbrush. Caspian was among them, his bow drawn, eyes locked onto the figure across from him—Davina.

He hadn’t seen me yet.

Good.

Suddenly, he fired. Davina dodged gracefully, but the shot clipped the branch. The whole tree groaned and began to collapse. I leapt down just in time, landing behind a thick stump, staying out of view. But I knew from the way his head tilted—he’d sensed me.

He knew I was here.

I scanned the area for Cayden. I didn’t see him, but that was what made him dangerous. He didn’t need to be seen. He could obliterate this entire coven if he wanted to, with or without shifting.

As the witches engaged the wolves, arrows flying through the air, the babies cried again. The moment their cries pierced through the chaos, I froze. Something was wrong.

I bolted toward the altar, leaving the witches to handle the ambush. When I arrived, I stopped dead in my tracks.

The tree altar was nearly abandoned.

The twins lay side by side, no longer surrounded by the coven. The witches who had been there were gone. In front of the babies, a single cup sat—filled with blood. On the side of the cup, a word was written in old tongue.

Drink.

Without thinking, I grabbed the cup and drank.

The moment the liquid touched my throat, a fire exploded in my chest. I coughed violently, stumbling backward as the heat clawed through my veins. My heart raced, then stuttered, then... stabilized. The pain faded, leaving behind an eerie silence in my body.

I looked down at myself. I felt stronger. Lighter. Different. But I didn’t have time to process it. I rushed back to the twins and placed a hand over each of their tiny chests.

No heartbeat.

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no..."

I lowered my ear to Heather’s chest. Nothing. Her skin was cold. I turned to the boy—still unnamed. Also still. Also silent.

Panic gripped my lungs. My hands trembled. What had they done?

Footsteps crunched behind me. I rose slowly, expecting Davina or one of the other witches.Instead, I saw him.

Caspian.

He stood there, quiet. Eyes locked on me. On the twins.

I stared back at him, my throat dry, my heart now slamming against my ribs again—not from pain, but from rage.

He knew.

He had to know.

Did he kill the others? Or did they flee and leave me with dead babies and stolen power after leaving my share in a cup?

.