Chapter 266: Chapter 266

I stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth. "No. No, this doesn’t make sense. You’re lying. You have to be lying." Content orıginally comes from novelꞁire.net

Lira remained calm. "Do you really think I’d make this up? Look around you, Lisa. Look at the way the air moves when you breathe."

I stared at her, my breath uneven. I wanted to argue, but deep down, a part of me knew she wasn’t wrong.

"What are you saying?" I asked, my voice small. "That I can do magic?"

Lira smiled faintly. "Not yet. But you will. The blood of witches runs in your veins."

I shook my head slowly, trying to understand. "And my mother... she was one too?"

"Yes," Lira said, her voice trembling slightly. "She was one of the strongest and powerful witches our coven ever had. We thought she would lead us one day. But love changed her path."

I sat down again, my knees weak. "Coven," I whispered. "You said that word earlier. What does it mean?"

"Coven of witches. A coven to protect ourselves, our magic and our kids,"

"But your mother fell in love with someone she should not have."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Lira looked at me then, her eyes soft but sad. "He was not one of us, Lisa. He was a werewolf."

The word sent a chill down my spine. I felt my whole body go still. "A werewolf?" I repeated slowly. "That can’t be true."

"It is," she said firmly. "And it is the reason everything fell apart."

I stared at her, my heart racing. "You’re saying my mother.... my mother loved a werewolf?"

"Yes," she whispered. "And that love... exposed us all."

I shook my head hard. "That doesn’t make sense. How could love ruin anything?"

Lira sighed deeply. "Because, child, in our world, love between witch and wolf is a curse in itself."

The fire crackled loudly, and she poked it with a stick before continuing.

Her voice changed, lower, older, like she was reciting something that had been spoken a thousand times before.

"Long ago," she began again, her voice soft but strong, "before humans built their stone towns and before kings sat on thrones, the world belonged to creatures of spirit and earth. The witches guarded the skies, the seasons, and the healing arts. The wolves guarded the forests, the night, and the hunt. For a time, both lived in peace. We traded spells for protection, herbs for meat. We danced under the same moons."

Her words painted pictures in my mind, wide green forests glowing under silver moonlight, women in flowing robes with stars in their hair, and strong wolves howling beside them. It sounded too beautiful to be true, but something in her tone made me believe it once was.

"I wish I had seen that time," I whispered.

She smiled faintly, her eyes shining with something like sadness. "Everyone says that. But peace is a fragile thing, child. It never lasts forever."

She drew a shaky breath and went on, her fingers tracing invisible lines in the air as if she was seeing the story in front of her. "The wolves grew strong, proud, and restless. They believed they were the chosen warriors of the Moon. And we, the witches, were born of the stars. The Moon and the stars, once sisters, turned jealous of each other, and so did their children."

I frowned, confused but curious. "Jealous? Why?"

"The Moon blessed the wolves with strength, speed, and the power to heal from any wound," she said. "But she gave them a curse too, rage. It burned inside them, wild and endless. It was the fire that made them great warriors, but also the poison that made them dangerous."

I nodded slowly. "So they needed something to calm it down?"

"Yes," she said, her voice dropping lower. "They needed guidance, calm, and wisdom, things that came from the stars. And the witches were born from the stars’ tears, made to bring balance. We were meant to heal what was broken in them. But the wolves didn’t see it that way. They saw us as weakness, as the soft ones who hid behind spells instead of claws."

She looked at the fire burning in the hearth, her expression far away. "In the beginning, we tried to remind them that we were all children of the same sky. But they only grew prouder. They said the Moon was the only true light, that the stars were nothing but her dust. They mocked us for drawing power from ’cold specks of light.’"

I could almost hear the old arguments in my head, the wolves growling, the witches standing their ground, sparks of magic clashing with snarls.

Lira sighed and rubbed her hands together, her voice trembling slightly. "It began with small things, a stolen potion here, a broken promise there. Then, one winter, a witch was found dead near the wolves’ border. The wolves claimed she had cursed their Alpha’s son. The witches swore she had only tried to heal him. But the boy had died... and that was the end of peace."

My chest tightened as she spoke. "What happened?"

"They came for us," she whispered. "Under the full moon, they came, hundreds of them, strong and merciless. They burned our sacred groves, tore down our circles of stone, and howled as they hunted us through the night. The witches fought back, of course, with fire, wind, and thunder. But magic is slower than rage. One by one, covens fell."

Lira’s voice grew tight, bitter. "And so they turned on us."

I swallowed. "They killed witches?"

She nodded slowly. "Hundreds. Thousands. The first war between witches and werewolves lasted for centuries. Every full moon, blood was spilled, and not just ours. Many wolves died too. But the wolves had their packs, their unity. We had our covens and our magic, yet magic is slow compared to teeth and claws."

I swallowed hard. "All because of one misunderstanding?"

Her eyes lifted to meet mine, and they were glistening. "It was never just one thing, child. It was pride, fear, and the curse of power. The Moon and the stars loved each other once, but their children turned their love into war. The wolves began to believe that witches were born to weaken them, to steal their power. And so, killing us became an act of loyalty to the Moon herself."

Her eyes darkened, and she continued in a low tone. "Some witches tried to make peace. They offered healing to the wounded wolves, hoping they would see reason. But the wolves’ leaders said we were deceivers, that our spells were poison. They hunted us harder after that. Some of them burned us alive, believing fire could purify our blood."

I felt my stomach twist. "That’s horrible."

"It was," Lira whispered. "It still is. The hate has never truly died."