Page 26 of The Survivors (The Children of the Sun God #4)

Circe

“Am I the last to hold on, or the only one who’s truly let go?”

Twenty years ago

The rare Louisiana snow fell in a hush that seemed to blanket not just the land but my family’s secrets buried within it.

I stood by my sister’s gravesite, wrapped tightly in a coat she left behind when she abandoned our world for a male human. No amount of wool or fur could insulate me from the chill in my bones, though.

Snowflakes drifted down like cold ash, dusting the Spanish moss that hung limp from the cypress trees. The swamp, a place typically alive with croaks, rustles, and cries, had fallen into an eerie silence. Today, even the spirits lingering in the graveyard seemed subdued, as if paying their respects .

My gaze slid to my sister Haris’ family. Their features were drawn with sorrow and cold. Her unsuspecting husband, children, and grandchildren were all bundled up, unaware that the strangers gathered nearby, pale and quiet, were family.

My parents stood a distance back with blended expressions of grief and guarded pride. And each of our siblings kept to themselves, forming a loose circle around the mourners. It was Haris’ rule we followed—witnessing from the shadows.

Haris was the firstborn of ten children. She said goodbye to our family before I was even born. As a female demigod who married a human male, she forsook her heritage to guarantee she had a family and a husband.

The females of our herd who leave, age and die as humans when they bind themselves to non-demigods. It was more important to Haris to live the life she chose than to wait and see if the Fates would send her a Minotaur mate.

Haris secretly came home to the labyrinth twice a year to visit and show Mitéra and Patér pictures of the family she loved more than us.

She could have introduced her sons to our world and included them. They would have shifted if she’d allowed Patér to call out their demigod half. She refused to give them up.

Did I harbor bitterness toward Haris? A part of me did. The other part was jealous that she gave into her desires, not caring how the rest of us felt. She lived life on her own terms.

I watched the snowfall thicken, settling over the water and the ancient trees, softening the jagged edges of grief.

Our family let her go when she departed the labyrinth. And here we were, letting her go again. I clenched my jaw against the pain, which I rarely allowed myself to show anyone.

When the minister’s words faltered in the cold, and her family tossed handfuls of Louisiana soil onto the coffin, I murmured my own farewell in the language only my siblings understood.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out a small polished stone, dark as midnight, which Haris had once given me when she came to visit, and gently tossed it onto the grave.

Together, our family quietly departed the scene to leave Haris’ children to say their last goodbyes. Snow continued to drift down in silent waves, painting a haunting stillness over the swamp.

My sister Domna tugged at my sleeve and pulled me aside. Her eyes darted from me to the ground. I could already feel the dread rising in my chest.

“Circe, I’m not going home with y’all.”

The words dropped like stones into the quiet, making my heart sink. “What! Why?” I squeaked.

Domna looked away and dove her hands into her dress pockets, as if she were already separating herself from our world. She kept her gaze on the snow-sprinkled ground as she answered, “I want what Haris had.”

The snow had turned the swamp into a white expanse, so rare in its beauty that it felt like a scene from another world. And maybe it was—for Domna. She wanted a world I could no longer follow her to.

I stood there silently. The chill of the air cutting through me. Domna looked at me one last time, then turned back toward the mourners. I was left alone, standing in the snow that now seemed heavier with each flake that fell around me.

It was done. Domna had made it official. All my sisters had abandoned me for a human life, leaving me the only one who would carry the burden of our family’s legacy. Without another word, I turned my back to her and started the long walk to where Mitéra and Patér waited.

They would expect me to be strong, to be there for them. Our brother, Karolos, had just found his fated mate and was too busy for us. His days and nights were filled with love’s urgency, not space for our parents’ grief. My sisters left me no choice.

Whatever it takes, I will mate with a Minotaur. I will be the daughter who does not abandon them.