This is the true story of how it all began…
I had just gotten married, ready to start my happily-ever-after, when I found myself trapped in a tight corner. My mother-in-law saw me as a liability. All she wanted was a grandchild—a wish I couldn't grant.
Worse still, all my friends who married the same day as me were already pregnant. She wanted my marriage to end, but my husband refused to let go. He loved me enough to wait.
Nine months later, the babies arrived. Cute, bouncing baby boys… all except for us eight couples who still had empty arms. We became the target of endless whispers and cruel laughter.
Twelve of my friends welcomed their children into the world:
Stella, Jeff's wife, gave birth to twins—Justin and David.
Bablin had Jarad.
Havana's triplets—Richard, Andy, and Fredi—were identical.
Marien welcomed Jamaine.
Christy had twin boys, Ony and Brandon.
Joyce gave birth to Theo.
Peculiar had Jackson.
Rosy had Nitto and Hamilton.
Clara welcomed Anthony.
Emerald had Adrian.
Freda gave birth to Nathen.
Margret had Drew.
The rest of us? We were left with nothing but the weight of everyone's pity—and the sting of our own unanswered prayers.
Two births stood out among all others—Marien's and Havana's.
Marien was expecting twins, a girl first and a boy second. But when the day came, something went wrong. The female fetus refused to come out, and instead, the boy—Jamaine—was born first. The strangest part? The umbilical cord was split in half—one half came out with Jamaine, while the other half remained inside Marien's womb.
Havana's birth was no less strange. All three of her sons were born at the exact same moment—no first, no last—and they were completely identical.
All the boys were born on the same day, in the same year, at the same time.
My family has always been… different. We are immortals. Things that seem impossible to others are often possible for us. But even immortality couldn't protect us from what came next.
She died and left me with a deep scar—Zyron.
Things became far worse when our family's ancient witch—our never-dying nightmare—escaped the magical cage I had sealed her in. Her name was Fegrance. Terror followed her everywhere. She brought with her a deadly accomplice. Fegrance is Barbara's mother… though, thankfully, her daughter is nothing like her.
When the boys were three years old, we planned a family outing. Marien stayed home—her daughter, Jamaine's twin, had never been born, and for three years, she remained inside her. The rest of us went to the beach. The boys laughed and played; it was a day full of joy.
Then Richard wandered off. He found a little girl his own age and, after a few minutes of innocent conversation, they shared a kiss. They parted ways, and when Richard returned, we were relieved—he was too important to our world to be lost.
But an exchange had happened. An exchange none of us noticed.
By the time we returned home, Richard had lost his sight. He told me everything, and as I listened, a chilling realization began to form in my mind…
I went downstairs and heard it—an eerie, twisted laughter. My heart sank. Fegrance had made her move.
The boys… We lost all focus. Panic spread among us. If Fegrance had taken Richard's powers, then all of them would be affected. The "mystery" from their seven-day birth ritual was unfolding before our eyes.
We had no choice but to negotiate with Fegrance. But before the talks even began, she struck—trapping the Seven Rings, exiling Elena's revenge-driven mothers, and sealing them away from the real world. The only way to break the spell was through The Mark of Zyron.
At first, we laughed at the idea—Zyron was right there, surely she could end it. But Fegrance's final demand turned our laughter to dread.
She wanted to kill Zyron and take her powers, making herself the Alpha Laughing Witch—supreme, unstoppable.
We refused. We prepared to fight until the end. But Zyron… she bowed her head and accepted defeat. Without a word, she handed her powers to Fegrance.
I stood frozen, powerless to stop it. Fegrance grinned in victory and returned Richard's powers as if she had done us a favor.
Then Zyron fell. I rushed to her side, my clothes soaked in her blood. Her voice was faint, but her eyes were steady.
"Don't worry," she whispered. "You will have your own child. But after that—never get pregnant again. Never adopt. No matter what your mother-in-law says."
I didn't understand her meaning then. All I could pray for was that she would somehow survive. She made me promise never to bury her body.
I cried when she gave her last breath. I thought immortals didn't die. My friends came in, pulled me away, and dragged me from the room.
That same year, I became pregnant—along with every other woman among us who had not yet given birth, except for Elena's revenge daughter, Stella.
Nine months later, I gave birth to twins—Saucy and Meyan. They were not identical, yet they looked strikingly alike.
Marien's baby finally came into the world—the same little girl who had remained in her womb for four years, still with the half cord from before. Her name was Mariana, Jamaine's twin.
Christy—mother of Ony and Brandon—gave birth to triplets, just like Havana's case years ago: Naso, Niso and Aso.
Barbara—Fegrance's daughter—gave birth to two girls, not twins: Melody and Scarlet.
Britany gave birth to Nina.
Lydia had Lusiya.
Susan welcomed Antonia.
Sarah had Annabel.
And Georgina gave birth to Mya and Emma.
Seven months later, I fell pregnant with my last child—at the same time as Stella.
For me, it was the strangest pregnancy I had ever experienced. I bled, even though I was carrying a child. I never slept during the night for the entire nine months. I had no time for my husband, my seven-month-old twins, or even my business—it was just me and the baby inside me.
On the day I went into labor, Stella was also in the delivery room.
Juliana came out first—but she was lifeless.
I fought through my own pain and brought forth my child, Anita. The moment Anita entered the world, breath and life rushed into Juliana. Their eyes opened at the same time, their pupils spinning like a color wheel before stopping. Juliana's eyes settled into a light, crystal blue.
Then Stella's other baby was born—Juliana's perfect look-alike, except her eyes were a deep bottle green.
Our children became our source of strength. After Zyron's passing, the boys were sent to Australia—far away from Fegrance's chaos—to grow up in peace and safety.
Two days later, Fegrance appeared. She demanded that her daughter give her one of the children. Barbara refused. Fegrance's fury was like a storm.
Seven days passed with Anita, Juliana, and Pricilla in our arms—a year for the rest. We finally began to feel the joy of motherhood again.
And then came the fire.
The flames swallowed everything. All of our babies died that day. I never conceived again, although the others tried, they suffered miscarriage after miscarriage.