“No, you’re mistaken!” I refused to agree with him. “Just as there are good and bad werewolves, the same goes for witches. Besides, you can’t pretend to be oblivious. You’re perceptive. If Debra were truly evil, why didn’t you notice it earlier? Why praise her kindness?”
๐€โถล๏ฝแปืฉ๏ผฅ๐๏ฝ.ฤ๐๐ช
My father fell silent.
I scoffed, “I bet you’d still sing her praises if her identity hadn’t been revealed. You’re blinded by her witch identity. Even if Debra saved the world, you’d choose to remain blind.”
“Bastard!” My father’s face flushed with anger. “You know nothing!
๊งเผโฌ๐๐ฎ๐ช๐ป๐๐ธ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ต๐ผ.๐๐ธ๐ถโฌเผ๊ง
You’ve been bewitched by Debra. Listen, all witches are wicked.
Otherwise, our ancestor Rick wouldn’t have been tricked into killing his wife and children, sparking the war and causing countless werewolves’ deaths!”
I still wanted to defend Debra, but my father made a cruel conjecture, saying, “In my view, Debra simply hasn’t had the chance to reveal her evil side, so she’s hiding it. If you keep defending her, Caleb, mark my words, you’ll repeat Rick’s errors, and countless werewolves in the pack will pay for your mistakes!”
T was so mad.
How could my father be so stubborn?
In a bid to save Debra, I forced myself to remain calm and said slowly, “Father, history favors the victors. Who’s to say what’s true after so long? The witches were willing to aid the Thorn Edge Pack in claiming numerous territories, demonstrating their resourcefulness.
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Before Rick’s time, there was no historical record depicting witches as evil. It wasn’t until Rick’s incident that they became widely distrusted.”
I recalled my recent dream, I added, “When I was on the brink of death in the foggy forest, I encountered Rick, and he expressed remorse. It’s clear that things aren’t as straightforward as they’re depicted in history books.”
My father paid no heed to my words. He refused to believe me, dismissing me with a cold wave of his hand. “Regardless, as long as I’m alive, you’ll never jeopardize the pack’s safety for your lover.
If you persist in this stubbornness, I’ll disown you as my son.”
My expression darkened in disbelief.
How could my father, who had always supported me, would say something like that.
His prejudice against witches not only led him to want to harm my future wife but also to sever our father-son bond. It was unjustifiable.
Anger surged within me, overwhelming my senses. Through gritted teeth, I talked, a mix of anger and sadness in my voice. “Father, how could you stoop to this? You’ve lost sight of what’s right and wrong. You disappoint me. You’re not the father I once revered!”
The children, frightened by our argument, cried even louder.
As the guests departed, leaving only my family in the church, the children’s cries echoed in the now-empty and quiet space.
My father, his brow furrowed, turned to the children and scolded, “Why are you crying? I haven’t dealt with you yet!”
With resentment in his voice, he continued, “Your mother is a witch.
You’ve likely inherited her bloodline. Once your witch power is confirmed, I’ll cast you out!”
His words infuriated me.
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