Leylin Of Turin

Leylin of Turin once said, “If you choose to nourish a starving creature, you must be ready to face the consequences.” My deepest fear was becoming the villainess who scars the protagonist’s heart in this twisted tale. Instead, I focused on mending the fragile bond with my sibling while still performing my wifely obligations—making certain my spouse remained conscious through it all. The path I walked was delicate, balancing familial devotion with marital responsibility. Every action carried weight, every decision rippled through our tangled fates. I refused to be the architect of anyone’s suffering, least of all those bound to me by blood or vow. The beast within our story needed care, not cruelty, and I would be its keeper without becoming its victim. My brother deserved better than the cold shoulder of our past, just as my husband required more than neglect. This was my silent vow—to rewrite our story with compassion rather than condemnation, to heal rather than harm. The original narrative demanded sacrifice, but I would make mine count for something greater.