On the brink of death, Sol had expected nothing more than absolute silence and endless snow. But instead, fate dealt him an unexpected hand. A powerful family rescued him that night, and Sol’s fate was rewritten—not by kindness alone, but by something far more intricate.
The Melvires took him in, cloaking him in a grace and warmth he had never known. The man who called himself his father, along with the four sons who shared no resemblance with him, offered a life so far removed from his own; it felt like fiction.
Ever since then, he had done everything in his power to make himself worthy of the life they gave him. He kept his head low, studied diligently, molded himself to their world. Yet even as the years passed, and he stood beside them in photographs and at family dinners, some truths remained hard to ignore.
The Melvires carried themselves with an elegance that seemed inborn, an air of distinction no effort could replicate. No matter how hard he tried, Sol always felt like an outsider trailing behind them—grateful, but never equal.
Nevertheless, he dedicated himself to their service, believing loyalty was the least he could offer in return.
But everything shattered the night he turned twenty when the veil was lifted.
The warmth that once welcomed him was no longer present. And the Melvires finally revealed the sharp claws hidden behind their velvet gloves.
Sol was nothing more than a sacrifice. The crown of their design.
He fought hard to escape their reign of terror, but the more he resisted, the steeper the slope became. Every path forward was walled in inevitability. His spirit waned beneath the weight of isolation and betrayal, until all that remained was resignation.
Perhaps this was simply the closing of a circle.
If his life was the price for everything he had been given, then so be it. He opened his arms, ready to embrace death again, just as he had those years ago.
But what was with their sudden change in attitude?
Why, after all the pain they inflicted, did they now seem… wounded?