Fated Mate to the Triplet Alpha
Chapter 150: The Witch Covens’ Claim

Chapter 150: Chapter 150: The Witch Covens’ Claim

Luna and Phoenix’s elemental power exploded through the room like a roaring tidal wave. Time itself bent and twisted unnaturally around them, distorting reality. The soldiers froze mid-step, their eyes wide with shock. Their weapons, once solid and lethal, turned to crumbling dust in their trembling hands.

Dr. Webb’s mouth fell open in horrified disbelief. "Impossible," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "They’re just children."

"We’re not just anything," Luna said coldly, her voice ringing like a silver bell in a quiet tomb. Her eyes blazed with a haunting silver light, filled with ancient knowing.

Phoenix stepped forward, calm but furious. Golden light radiated from his skin in pulsing waves, illuminating the room with sacred heat. "You hurt our family," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Now you pay."

The twins raised their hands together. Power surged between them like a living force. Every soldier in the room aged fifty years in three unbearable seconds. Gray hair erupted like frost overnight. Wrinkles gouged deep lines into their once-strong faces. Muscles sagged. Bones ached.

"Stop!" Dr. Webb screamed, stumbling backward. "You’re killing them!"

"Good," Phoenix replied, his tone chillingly simple.

But before the twins could deliver the final blow, thick purple smoke coiled into the room, swirling like ancient spirits disturbed from slumber. It smelled of crushed herbs, graveyard soil, and old, forgotten magic. The aged soldiers collapsed, gasping as if their lungs were full of sand.

"Enough, little ones." A woman’s voice rang out—calm, commanding, ancient. It echoed with centuries of power.

The smoke parted like velvet curtains. Twelve women stood in a perfect circle around Luna and Phoenix. They wore long, flowing black robes embroidered with glittering silver symbols that shimmered with enchantment. Their eyes glowed with eerie violet light, unblinking.

"Witches," Seraphina hissed, her fangs bared. Her vampire powers were slowly returning, her veins pulsing with cold fire.

The leader stepped forward, regal and poised. She was tall, her white hair braided intricately and hanging down to her waist like a silken rope. A delicate silver crown rested on her brow, studded with moonstone and opal.

"I am High Witch Morgana," she declared. "These children belong to us."

"Like hell they do," Kael snarled, his golden eyes flashing. His wolf strength was returning, thick and wild. The beast inside him stirred.

Morgana smiled—a cold, cruel thing. "Elara Moon carries witch blood. Ancient blood. Royal blood."

"That’s impossible," Elara whispered, clutching her children protectively.

"Your grandmother," Morgana said smoothly, "was Princess Lyra of the Moon Coven. She abandoned her throne for love. Married a werewolf. Had your mother."

"You’re lying," Elara snapped, though her heart pounded with doubt.

"Your mother never told you?" Morgana’s laughter was brittle as broken glass. "Elena Moon was half-witch. That makes you a quarter-witch. And these children..." She extended one long, jeweled finger at Luna and Phoenix. "They’re the most powerful witches born in a thousand years."

Luna reached for Phoenix’s hand, gripping it tightly. "We don’t want to be witches."

"What you want doesn’t matter," Morgana said coldly. "You have witch heritage. You belong with us."

"They belong with their parents," Ronan growled, stepping forward, eyes flashing.

"Do they?" Another witch, younger with fiery red hair and sharp features, tilted her head. "Look around you. Chaos follows these children everywhere. War. Death. Destruction."

"We didn’t start this war," Phoenix said through gritted teeth, fists clenched.

"But you escalate it," the red-haired witch countered. "Your power is too great. Too dangerous. You need guidance. Discipline. Training."

"From who?" Darian challenged. "Witches who hide in shadows and lie to governments?"

"From witches who’ve survived for millennia," Morgana snapped. "We’ve learned to control power. To use it wisely. Not waste it on emotion."

In the corner, Timothy—the boy once known as Project Zero—struggled upright. His body was bruised, his spirit battered, but his mind was clearing like morning mist.

"Don’t trust them," he croaked. "Witches... they came to the humans first. Offered to help capture supernatural children."

"Lies," Morgana hissed, her smile vanishing.

"I was there," Timothy said. "I heard them. They want the children for themselves. For some kind of ritual."

Morgana’s face turned a dangerous shade of gray. "Shut him up."

One of the witches raised her hand. A blast of violent purple fire burst from her palm, hurtling toward Timothy.

Luna stepped in front of him without hesitation. The fire struck her—and vanished. Not even her hair moved.

"Nobody hurts him," she said fiercely. "He’s suffered enough."

"You see?" Morgana said to the others. "She protects humans. She doesn’t understand the natural order. Witches rule. Humans serve. Werewolves and vampires fight our wars."

"That’s not how the world works," Elara said defiantly.

"It’s how our world works," Morgana replied with ice in her voice. "It’s how it’s always worked."

"Then your world sucks," Phoenix said bluntly.

Several witches gasped in outrage. Speaking to the High Witch like that was unthinkable.

Morgana’s violet eyes burned with fury. "You will learn respect, child."

"Make me," Phoenix challenged, golden light pulsing around him.

Morgana raised her arms high. Ancient, crackling words spilled from her lips in a forgotten tongue. The air grew thick and electric.

But nothing happened.

Phoenix stared at her with calm amusement. "Are you done?"

Morgana chanted louder. More power. More desperation. Still—nothing.

"How?" she whispered, trembling.

"You can’t control time gods," came Frost’s voice from the shadows. "We warned you."

"But they have witch blood," Morgana insisted, nearly unhinged.

"They have many kinds of blood," Luna said. "Witch. Wolf. Human. God. We’re not just one thing."

"That makes us stronger," Phoenix added. "Not weaker."

"It makes you abominations," Morgana spat.

The twins’ eyes turned a blinding white. Their combined fury hit the room like a hurricane.

"Don’t. Call. Us. That," Luna said slowly, voice filled with divine wrath.

Every window shattered in an instant. The walls cracked, groaning. The ground split with a deep, rumbling growl.

The witches stumbled back. Their perfect circle broke.

"We need to leave," one muttered, her voice panicked.

"We’re not leaving without the children," Morgana shouted.

"You’re not taking them either," Kael said, stepping forward. His Alpha power blazed gold around him.

Kane, the visiting Alpha, stood beside him. United at last.

"No witch steals pack children," Kane growled, his voice like thunder.

Seraphina smiled darkly. "No witch steals anyone’s children."

"This is our family," Elara said, voice iron-strong. "You can’t have them."

"We’ll see about that," Morgana hissed. She drew a silver dagger etched with glowing runes. "This is a binding knife. One drop of blood—and the children will obey me."

"Try it," Phoenix dared her, eyes locked on the blade.

Morgana lunged.

But Tobias Grey appeared from nowhere, his movement a blur. He grabbed Morgana’s wrist mid-strike, twisting it with ease. The knife clattered to the floor.

"Hello, sister," he said quietly.

"Sister?" Elara’s mouth fell open.

"Tobias?" Morgana looked pale. "You’re dead. I killed you!"

"You tried," Tobias replied calmly. "But it’s hard to kill someone who doesn’t exist in normal time."

"What does that mean?" Ronan asked warily.

"It means," Frost said, "Tobias isn’t just a rogue werewolf. He’s something else."

"What?" Kael demanded.

"I’m the children’s real grandfather," Tobias said softly. "Elena Moon was my daughter."

"Impossible," Morgana gasped. "Elena’s father was a werewolf."

"No," Tobias said. "Elena’s father was a time god. Like me. Like them."

He pointed at Luna and Phoenix.

"Which means they’re not just part witch, part wolf, part human. They’re part time god. And time gods bow to no one."

"Even other time gods?" Dr. Webb asked faintly from the floor.

"Especially other time gods," Tobias answered.

Luna and Phoenix looked at each other. Then, with certainty, turned to their parents.

"We want to stay with you," Luna said.

"Always," Phoenix echoed.

"You don’t get to choose," Morgana snapped. "I’m their great-aunt. I have legal rights."

"Legal?" Darian laughed bitterly. "Since when do witches care about laws?"

"Since the human government offered us a deal," Morgana said. "Help them capture supernatural children, and we get recognition. Protection."

"You sold out your own kind," Seraphina growled.

"We survived," Morgana snarled. "We always survive."

"Not this time," Timothy said. His power flared. He touched the ground, sending a wave of rippling force through the room.

The witches screamed as their magic began to unravel. One by one, they forgot incantations, spells, lifetimes of power.

"No!" Morgana howled. "My knowledge—my centuries of learning!"

"Gone," Timothy said coldly. "Just like you took mine."

The witches collapsed. Their robes dulled. Their violet eyes faded to brown.

"Now you’re just human," Timothy said. "How does it feel?"

But before Morgana could speak, new voices filled the air—singing. Ethereal. Terrifying. Beautiful.

The temperature dropped sharply, ice forming on the walls.

"Oh no," Tobias whispered. "Not them. Anyone but them."

"Who?" Elara asked.

Through the shattered windows glided radiant beings made of frost and starlight. Their wings glittered like crystalized galaxies. Their eyes held ancient storms.

"The Fae Court," Tobias breathed. "The children’s power called them."

The lead Fae landed, her grace inhuman. Her voice was like frozen chimes.

"We claim these children," she said. "They belong in the Eternal Realm."

"Everyone wants our kids," Kael muttered.

"Because everyone can feel what they really are," the Fae Queen said. "They’re the bridge between all worlds. And whoever

controls them..."

"Controls everything," Elara finished, her voice shaking.

The Fae Queen smiled. It was breathtaking—and utterly terrifying.

"Now you understand," she said. "The real war is just beginning."