The Destined Curse

Once, the moon had a goddess.

And once, the werewolves had her blessing.

Selene, goddess of the moon, had favoured her children above all others. She gave them strength that could rival the wild, agility that made them almost untouchable, and a power that coursed through their blood.

But her greatest gift was not strength.

It was the promise of finding another soul that belonged to theirs.

A soulmate.

For centuries, the werewolves called it a blessing. Until they began to believe they deserved the right to choose for themselves.

One rejection became two. Two became hundreds. And what had once been an act of defiance slowly became a tradition.

Selene watched.

And the goddess who had loved her children enough to give them everything finally took away the one thing they had refused to value.

She cursed them to wander without their other half.

But a curse was never meant to be forgotten.

The centuries that followed turned the curse into folklore. Then folklore became myth. And eventually, the very idea of a soulmate became nothing more than a story told to children who had forgotten that such a thing had ever existed.

Yet Selene had not cursed them merely to punish their arrogance. She had cursed them to force them to understand what they had thrown away. Every werewolf would live with the emptiness they had chosen, carrying the absence of their other half through every generation.

The curse would remain until the werewolves remembered that love was not something to be claimed, controlled, or discarded when it became inconvenient.

Until they chose their other half willingly.

The world itself had changed.

Humanity was no longer alone. Werewolves, vampires, witches, fae and creatures once believed to belong only to nightmares now walked openly beneath the same sun. The old Earth had been destroyed in a supernatural backlash so devastating that few remembered what had truly happened.

Those who survived rebuilt.

They adapted.

They learned to live together.

And they forgot.

At least, most of them did.

Faustus had never believed in legends.

He had far more practical things to worry about. His pack was fractured, old alliances were failing, and the fragile peace between supernatural species was beginning to crack. He had spent years preparing for the conflicts everyone else insisted would never come.

He had no time for stories about a goddess, a curse, or a bond that had supposedly been lost to history.

But somewhere far away, Edith was living a life of her own.

She certainly did not know that somewhere in the forgotten history of their kind, the moon had once promised that two souls could belong to one another.

Neither of them had any reason to believe in soulmates.

Because soulmates had become a myth.

And myths, everyone knew, were not supposed to come back.

Not unless the curse had finally found a reason to end.