CHAPTER 155: PASSED

Zen leaned back in his seat. Even if she hadn’t tried to entice him like this, he would have listened to the story anyway.

But now, after her words, his curiosity sharpened. Because in the long history of the werewolves, there had only ever been a handful of triplet births every few centuries-and none of those triplets had left any known direct descendants. That alone made it worth listening to.

Their father had spent years studying the lives of those rare triplets, trying to understand why none of them had survived after their mating. It had almost become an obsession for him for them. He’d been so worried that they would also meet a similar end...

He’d gone through old records, half-burned scrolls, and even ancient tales passed down in whispers, searching for a pattern. He paused thoughtfully for a moment. In fact, the reason their Scroll Room was a mess because his father had spent all his time trying to look for reasons and ways to survive.

In the end, all he ever found was and gave them was one strange piece of advice—they needed to be in sync when they claimed their mate. It was also why none of them had claimed Ramona. Because they would only claim her together.

Zen’s lips curved slightly as he looked at the Grand Witch not revealing his own thoughts.. "Sure. Tell me. I love a good story."

But instead of beginning right away, she tilted her head and said, "Uh-uh. Before I start, let me make something clear. If you have any questions about the story while I’m telling it or after, I will not answer them."

Zen shrugged. He didn’t mind. He knew nothing about what she was about to say, so he didn’t even know what to ask. And even if he had known something, he wasn’t the type to ask questions. He’d rather look for answers himself.

He leaned back again, assured, unaware that his easy acceptance would soon be something he would regret deeply.

"Good," the witch said after a pause, her tone suddenly more serious. "Then we are agreed." She adjusted the folds of her cloak and fixed her gaze on him. "I will narrate the story once. After that, if you have any questions--no matter what they are--you cannot ask me."

Zen nodded once, silently giving his consent.

without further ado, the grandwitch began her story with a distant look in her eye, "There were once two sisters...Not sisters by blood, but by fate. They were adopted by the same master in an ancient sect hidden deep in the mountains-one that trained witches, healers, and seers."

"On the night they were born, a prophecy was made. It said that one of the sisters would become the Mother of the Werewolves and witches alike—the one who would give birth to a new age of balance. The other, however, was destined to bring ruin upon all three races—the werewolves, the white witches, and the dark witches alike. She would end up being their destroyer."

Zen’s attention sharpened at that, though he stayed quiet. He had never heard of this forklore.

"The prophecy spoke of a union that would eventually reveal the fate. One of the sisters was meant to be bound to three brothers- lord of the werewolves, the white witches, and the dark witches. Their bond would be unlike any other, one that could either merge the three races in peace or tear them apart forever."

"But prophecies are tricky things. They are easily twisted when half-heard or half-understood. The one who first heard this prophecy did not listen to it in its entirety. He rushed to judgment, believing that one sister was the destroyer and the other the savior-but he did not know which was which."

"The Sect Master was a kind man. Though he had heard the prophecy, he did not allow fear or doubt to poison his heart. He believed that both girls had been born under the same stars for a reason-that destiny, though harsh, was not unchangeable.

So, he raised them without distinction. He gave them the same lessons, the same guidance, and the same love. To him, they were daughters, not omens."

"When the sisters turned eighteen," the witch went on, "the Sect Master believed that the time had come for their destinies to take shape. He sent out word to the three great Lords—the Lords of the Werewolves, the White Witches, and the Dark Witches. He invited them to the mountain, for he believed that the prophecy’s union might bring peace if handled with wisdom and heart. He was certain that all three brothers would be drawn to the same woman, and through her, balance would be restored between the three races, while he would take care of the other, making sure she would not turn dark."

"And in a way, he was right. The brothers came, proud and powerful, each with his own following. They met the sisters under the silver light of the full moon, and something ancient stirred in the air that night. The bond between the three Lords and the sisters was immediate, undeniable. But it did not happen as the Sect Master had hoped."

She looked at Zen, her gaze sharp now. "For though the brothers had come as one, their hearts did not choose as one."

Zen stiffened at the words then, a hundred questions jumping in his mind as the witch came to a pause. What did she mean they did not choose as one. But even as the question came, he had a very hollow feeling in his stomach.. And then the witch continued, "And in all of this, everyone involved, forgot to take into consideration the young girls’ heart. Was it really possible for one girl to equally love three different men? What if she was not able to? And that is when disaster struck.. Because they chose... And what they chose... was not right. Everything spiralled out of control then... And disaster struck...ending not just the three brothers and the two sisters but the end of entire clans, families and cities..."