Long before humans ruled the Earth, the world belonged to the wolves.
Not the wolves of today, but ancient beings with sharp talons, jaws strong enough to crush bone, and a presence that commanded both awe and fear. Their beauty was overwhelming--it caused the most fearsome creatures to hesitate. Killing in packs without remorse, led only by instinct, they were merciless and bound by loyalty. Alone, they were dangerous. Together, they were impenetrable. And for a long time, they ruled without challenge.
But the moon goddess grew weary.
She watched as her creation roamed the Earth with nothing but apathy, leaving destruction in its wake with no purpose beyond survival. So she decided to intervene. She created a force woven from her essence and tied it to the pull of the moon. The goddess then split her essence and scattered one half amongst the wolves. She placed the other halves within humans.
From that moment on, under every full moon, the wolves were blessed by the goddess to take on a human form. In that form, they would be given the chance to find the one soul destined for them, the other half of the essence that lived in them. They would find their fated mate. Love was an emotion these beasts had never experienced, but it changed everything.
While love made them stronger, it also made them vulnerable. This newfound vulnerability spread fear quickly among the packs. If they gave in to this bond and allowed themselves to love weaker beings, what would become of their kind? And so, they made a vow not to mate with a human. They would only breed within their species, preserving their lineage at all costs. However, the pull of fate is stronger.
Their King Alpha had fallen deeply, irrevocably, in love with a human.
He loved her in secret, defying everything his kind stood for. In that same secrecy, they became one and had a son- half man, half beast. The child was born human, yet the Alpha could feel a dormant power within his son. In time, the secret came to light; dissent rotted into rebellion, and loyalty died with it.
There was a mutiny. In the dead of night, under the same moon that had sealed their bond, the Alpha and his mate were assassinated. But the child survived. Hidden beneath the floorboards, unseen and untouched, he lay in silence as death passed over him.
When the moon goddess descended and found him, she gathered the small body into her arms. She expected cries, but there was nothing. He only stared, electric blue eyes unblinking, as if he already understood a world he had just entered.
Such a peculiar child, Selene thought.
Moved by a fierce, protective instinct, the moon goddess made a choice. She took him from that blood-soaked place and carried him somewhere hidden, somewhere safe, where she would raise him as her own. As he grew, she discovered the truth. The child was not just different. The magic that coursed through his blood was unstable, too vast for a tiny human to contain. Fearing for his safety, she cloaked him in a powerful spell that suppressed his power and kept him hidden from the world. For a time, it worked. But power like his was never meant to stay contained.
As the boy grew, so did the force within him, pushing against the limits of the magic meant to protect him. By the time he reached fifteen, it became too much. The spell broke. And on a night where the moon was round and bright, the beast tore free from beneath his skin.
Thus, the first werewolf was born.