Offered to the Triplet Alphas

Chapter-111. Forget me

[Xanthea]

Asher words reverberated in my mind like an eerie echo leeching into my thoughts.

My grave? What the hell does that even mean?

I am right here. Alive-

That's when it hit me, numbing my rage and fear, leaving me empty. My body went limp as the realization sunk deeper.

If my heart didn't slam against my ribs as violently as it did, I would have believed that I was truly dead.

A thought that had never crossed my mind before crashed like a wave, drowning my entire reality within seconds - was I ever truly alive?

"You mercilessly killed yourself every year on your birthday, burying your soul right here..." Asher said with a faint tremble in his voice. He pressed my palm against the cold white marble of the grave.

"Look what you've done to yourself, Xanthea... what you're still doing. You never mourned your mother. You only mourned yourself..."

Goosebumps prickled across my skin as tears welled in my eyes. Not because I was breaking, but somehow his words were making sense in a way that fixed something inside me. Something he never broke. I could feel the haze of my dark thoughts splintering as the moon glowed a little brighter.

His grip on my body turned gentler. Maybe because I had stopped resisting. I still didn't understand what he was doing or why, but it was working. It was slowly burning away my mother from me. Maybe because I finally realized what he wanted me to.

My tears dropped on the forget-me-nots as I peered at the grave.

"Do you want to know what happened to your mother's soul?" He asked grimly.

My breaths turned colder in my lungs as I took a quick gulp.

"Such information is highly confidential. I could get into a lot of trouble for breaking several laws of the universe as I share this with you, but the trouble's going to be so worth it."

He sounded almost like Ezra, his voice edging towards madness.

"Your mother's soul isn't rotting in some hell." Asher's laugh was jagged, like shards of glass. "No - hell would've been a mercy. After losing her immortality, Cadence died as a mortal, and her soul entered the karmic cycle - the cycle of life and death. She will live and die as many times as the lives she destroyed. Her every life will be uglier than the last until she's endured every drop of pain she ever caused."

His thumb brushed over my tear-stained cheek, almost tender like a blade when it cuts the skin.

"You think you can redeem her by punishing yourself?" He chuckled. "The karma is far crueler than you. That's how the universe works: anything you give others returns to you tenfold."

My breath hitched as he sank into my nape, his nose trailing along the curve of my neck.

is probably somewhere in a mortal body, receiving

with a daunting gravity, and despite his attempt to keep a

prayer can save her, Xanthea. No pain will suffice. There will be no peace

breath, I pursed my quivering lips, shutting my

caused. Her redemption is her responsibility, so no one else can, or 'should,' bear the burden of her karma.

his words hitting me

followed was a silence that

this, I was torn. A part of me knew she deserved it, and there could have been no harsher punishment for her. But another part of me was consumed by grief - the part that couldn't wish such a fate on even my worst enemy. But somehow, no matter how harsh his words were or how deeply they cut, a strange relief washed over me, because his words gave me a closure I didn't know I

my mother was gone. I finally accepted the one thing I had been denying all my life: my mother was dead, buried in this grave, and she was

the endless cycle of life and

deliberately - kept her alive within me

only one who could reclaim my identity. From this grave, she couldn't touch

me to understand that what was hers could never be mine, and she could never steal what belonged to me - not my mind, and certainly not

I was safe.

to be like my mother, convinced her death was my fault. I longed to live her life, to fulfill her dreams out of guilt. And so, I had buried myself in this grave for twenty-three

here?" Asher's voice was low, dangerous.

my face to the

over your mother's grave. For my cock to ravage your pussy while you rip the forget-me-nots, screaming my name as your holy juices cleanse your mother's unholy grave.

I voluntarily stayed on my four, my chest heaving as

before he could unzip his pants, I rose to my knees, using all my strength to push him back as

ground, pinning his hands beside his

face as

my actions, but he silently remained on the ground, contemplating me with a blank yet warm

tears streamed down my face, dripping onto his and soaking

to be here, but why had it taken me so long to realize that it was probably hurting him a thousand

raw pain had bled into them

cracking because of the lump

remained locked for what felt

thing I know about you, it's that you never do anything without a reason. And your reason... it can never be as hollow as revenge." "My reasons - if they are related to you - can never be

eyes and cheeks, refusing to let them blur my vision as

to the darkroom. It was one of the most overwhelming experiences of my life; something I'll never forget. Not because I almost lost my mind there, but because it helped me find us - our memories. And in those memories, I met myself... for the

dry

"I feel, Asher."

his wrists, I sat on his waist, lowering my head so that my hair hid my face from

in a soft, calm tone,

time... there's this feeling that... I... I...

shifting me gently

hair. "Using your mother to survive the abuse that you went through - wasn't wrong. Loving her - even if she didn't deserve it - wasn't a mistake. And if you see it as one, then I'm grateful that you made that mistake because it kept you alive. It made you strong.