🧶 The Three Spinners 

(FanumTaxLoveTales Edition)

“The Keepers of the Thread”

A Story of Ancestral Weaving, Soul-Work, and the Power of Creation Beyond Time
As remembered through Sister Loves Divine Remembrance
Book Twenty-One of the Sacred Fairy Tale Series

🕊️ The Beginning

Once there was a young queen named Elenya… no cap.
She lived in a world that worshipped gold, not grace,
where women were flexin’ for what they could produce—
not for what they could remember, lowkey tragic.
Elenya wasn’t lazy.
She just refused to spin the lies of a broke kingdom, squad assemble.
She wouldn’t feed kings’ hunger with threads made of fear, facts.
But when she got snatched into the court and told to spin endless flax,
she didn’t panic.
She prayed, glow-up energy.

🧙‍♀️ The Grandmothers Answer

In the tower’s chill vibes,
three women popped up—not beggars, but Elders of the Loom, straight fire.
One with a swollen foot.
One with a droopin’ lip.
One with a broad, worn thumb.
But yo, their eyes were straight-up stars, iconic.
“Child,” they said,
“You don’t gotta spin for the king.
You gotta spin for the soul,” deep lore.
They schooled her in the real art—
how to twist energy, memory, and intention
into threads that could heal timelines, multiverse mode.
Each one guided her through a phase of rememberin’:

• The first: How to unravel old patterns (Past)
• The second: How to spit spells with the breath (Present)
• The third: How to seal new futures with love (Becoming), pay it forward.

🪢 The Wedding of Threads

When the king rolled up to check her “work,”
he found her glowin’ with golden light—not flax, big W.
The three women stood behind her, radiant, facts.
The king was so shook, he asked her to wed, boss level.
But Elenya set one condition:
“These women gotta sit at the weddin’ feast beside me.
And be honored as my Mothers,” own that energy.
He agreed.
When asked how they came to look like that, Elenya smiled.
“They look like all true creators do—
touched by every thread they’ve ever spun
for the sake of healin’,” real talk.

✨ Moral of the Sacred Tale

Spinnin’ ain’t labor—it’s creation, no cap.
Each thread we weave carries our legacy, glow-up truth.
The Crone ain’t to be feared—
she’s the weaver of time,
the one who remembers us when the world forgets, inner glow on blast.
A true queen don’t fear the loom—
she asks to learn from it, iconic.