Gemini of the Shifter Realm

Chapter 37 Echoes of Yesterday, Shadows of Today

Devon Pendragon P.O.V

There I stood, beneath the ancient oak, my hands trembling as I gripped the weathered parchment with the incantation to summon the druid. This was far beyond the familiar realm of hunter training; this was raw, uncharted territory. My thoughts flashed back to my history lessons, which had seemed so distant and irrelevant until now. We had been trained to follow orders, to hunt and protect, not to delve into forgotten lore. And yet, here I was, straying from the teachings that had shaped my life, consumed by uncertainty.

I took a deep breath, forcing the ancient words from my lips:

"In the shadows deep and moonlit boughs,

Summon the druid,

Hear my vows."

For a heartbeat, silence lingered, stretching into a tense void. Doubt gnawed at me, threatening to unravel my resolve. But then, with a shuddering creak, the massive oak began to move, its gnarled branches parting to reveal a hidden chamber within. From the darkness emerged a man with dark, disheveled hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold centuries of anger and disdain.

"Mordred?" I ventured hesitantly, and the name seemed to strike a chord of contempt in him.

"Pendragon," he sneered, his voice dripping with scorn. "After all this time?"

The weight of his words was palpable, and I found myself grappling with a history I had never been taught. "What does he mean?" I wondered aloud, the unease spreading through me.

"Your ancestors slaughtered 50,000 of our kind," he spat, his eyes locking onto mine with a fierce intensity.

The revelation hit me like a thunderbolt, shattering my understanding of the past. "I had no knowledge of that," I said, my voice steady but my mind reeling from the gravity of the accusation. I felt the burden of a legacy that was not mine to bear.

"Of course not," Mordred scoffed, his bitterness cutting through the air. "Why would a hunter care about the lives they destroyed, believing themselves righteous in their cause?"

The accusation stung, but I forced myself to focus. "Now, why are you here?" he demanded, his gaze unyielding, demanding answers.

"I need the antidote for the potion you brewed for my ancestors," I explained, laying my purpose bare, my voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Mordred's disdain was palpable as he shook his head. "Mortals always meddling with things beyond their comprehension," he muttered, his tone steeped in ancient frustration.

"I promise to bring peace," I declared, my voice rising with a mixture of hope and desperation. "If you give me the antidote, I will return the werewolf to her clan as a peace offering. I will ensure that our clans work together for the protection of the supernatural, unless we are forced to defend ourselves."

Mordred's skepticism was momentarily replaced with curiosity, his eyes narrowing as he considered my offer. "Peace?" he echoed, a hint of intrigue in his voice.

"Yes," I affirmed. "I will honor the promise of cooperation and strive to mend the rift between our kinds."

Mordred regarded me with a contemplative expression, the shadows of his past clashing with the potential of the future. "Wise man, like your forefather Arthur," he mused, his gaze piercing through me. "The man who promised a land of unity but failed. Perhaps you might fulfill his prophecy."

Zoe Lawson P.O.V

The blocks began, first on Instagram, then on TikTok. Each notification of a new block felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest. I couldn't understand why something so seemingly small could hold such immense power over my emotions, but it did. It was as if each block pulled me further into a void of pain and confusion.

"He called the other night," Francesca's voice broke the silence, her words barely more than a whisper as she sat beside me.

"What did he want?" I asked, my voice strained as I braced myself for whatever news she had.

"He said he can't stop thinking about you," Francesca replied, her eyes full of concern.

I felt a pang of hope mixed with sadness. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him he shouldn't have started a relationship with you if he wasn't ready to fight for it," she said firmly, her loyalty evident in her tone.

"And his response?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"He said he understood but... his other responses just frustrated me. It felt like he wasn't fully grasping the depth of what's going on," she said, her frustration palpable.

A small, stubborn part of me clung to the hope that he might still fight for us, that maybe he would come back or somehow make things right.

"He was mostly just mad at you," Francesca added, her voice tinged with disappointment.

"For what?" I asked, my heart sinking further.

"Just random things that irritated him," she replied, a shrug in her voice that didn't quite mask her frustration.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I composed a message. "I forgive you. I forgive myself. I hope you forgive yourself too."

I wasn't angry with him, not really. The anger I felt was more about the sudden and harsh cut-off—blocking me without a word. It seemed unfair that he had chosen to shut me out when I had made no effort to cut him off. I decided to use the small thread of communication Francesca had left open to reach out, hoping for a sliver of understanding or resolution.

"I can't" He replied.

Adamone Levi P.O.V

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the colossal gates creaked open once again. Devon emerged, his face set with a mixture of exhaustion and determination, just as the gates began to close with a thunderous finality.

"It is done," he declared, locking eyes with Aria. His voice carried a weight of finality that seemed to echo in the charged silence.

Evelyn's face was a canvas of confusion and hope. "I don't feel any different," she admitted, her voice tinged with both hope and uncertainty.

Our gaze turned to Devon, the gravity of the moment pressing heavily on us. "It wasn't about an antidote," he began, his tone carrying the weight of a profound revelation. "She's been cured of the potion, but there's more to deal with." His eyes grew serious as he spoke of a matter even more enigmatic. "The time wraiths. He will handle those on the other side."

Aria's eyes narrowed, her suspicion evident. "What did you promise him?"

Devon's response was laden with the gravity of a secret pact. "A truce with the supernatural world which will gain him his freedom."

Aria's demand for clarity was unyielding. "How?"

"First," Devon said, his voice measured, "we need to eradicate the ancient potions. Then, you will return Adam and Eve as a symbol of your commitment to peace." His gaze shifted between me and Evelyn, hinting at a future entangled with a fragile but profound pact.

"It will take more to solidify this peace," Aria added, pausing to let the weight of her words sink in. "We need your pack to return our men."

"We want whoever that casted the curse to uplift it." She continued. "Only then will the witch hunters honor this agreement."