Maya’s POV When that young werewolf girl named Celena looked at me with those hollow, almost resolute eyes and said, "I want you to help suppress the wolf inside me. Its thoughts are interfering with mine," I swear my jaw nearly dropped. Merlin’s beard! Suppress the wolf’s mind? That was... that was like asking someone to chop off their own arm just because it occasionally flails uncontrollably! The wolf was an inseparable part of a werewolf’s soul—its instinct, its power, its an amplifier of emotion. Suppress it? What’s the difference between that and strangling your own soul? I stared at her pale little face, those once-bright eyes now filled only with exhaustion and struggle. A wave of immense sympathy washed over me. What torment must this poor child be enduring? "Dear Celena," I tried to make my voice sound gentle yet firm, "I’m sorry, but I cannot do this. The soul... even for us witches, it is too complex and sacred. Forcibly suppressing a part of your very essence carries unknown consequences, and they are likely to be catastrophic. I cannot, and will not, take that risk." I watched the light in her eyes dim rapidly, my heart tightening. "However," I added, attempting to offer a sliver of hope while delivering a gentle refusal, "I can ask the other sisters if they’ve... heard of similar cases. And I promise you, I will keep this secret—even from my partner." I hoped she understood this wasn’t a viable path. But she seemed to latch only onto the "ask the other sisters" part. After a quiet thank you, she turned and left, her slender figure achingly fragile against the light. Rose’s POV Oh, come on! Maya, that old stick-in-the-mud! When she anxiously reached out through our sisters’ magical network, asking other witches about methods to "gently guide werewolf instincts" (she didn’t even dare mention the word "suppress" outright, afraid of scaring anyone), I knew trouble was brewing. Telepathy was such a wonderful thing sometimes, especially when you were looking for a bit of fun. My serious sister had undoubtedly used her "it’s for your own good" spiel to politely turn down that poor little wolf girl again. Look at Celena now, as if the whole world had abandoned her, walking around with that lifeless look. Just because Maya’s methods didn’t work doesn’t mean mine won’t! A brilliant (or so I thought) idea popped into my head. Tease her! Tell her a story—an ancient, toothless wizard’s fairy tale, to give her something to think about. Better than her sitting there like a statue, right? I meant well! I found Celena sitting alone by the lake, lost in thought. "Hey, little wolf girl," I approached her with a grin. "Heard you’re looking for a solution? My sister’s old-fashioned ways might not help you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t!" She lifted her head, a faint spark reigniting in her dull eyes. Goodness, she was so easy to fool, or perhaps she was just desperate to cling to anything. I crossed my legs, adopting a storyteller’s pose. Lowering my voice mysteriously, I adopted that unmistakable "I’m about to pull a fast one on you" tone even a child could detect: "Listen up. This is an ancient secret passed down in our witch family... a nursery rhyme? No, a legendary incantation." I deliberately skipped the first word. "Legend has it that at a specific moment, through a simple ritual and chanting the incantation, you can summon three powerful forest witches. They can do anything, and you can make any deal with them... including, well, helping you solve some little troubles." I watched her eyes widen gradually, and my heart swelled with delight. Yes, that’s it! A little spark of life!