Once a Werewolf turns 18, their werewolf counterpart comes forward, and they naturally shift for the first time under a full moon. Some wolves were lucky, and the full moon fell on or just after their birthday, whereas others had to wait almost the entire month. The first shift was always more difficult, which is why it was done under the full moon; the strength of the moon helped with the process.
For Saphira, it happened to be a full moon on her birthday that year. She had been so excited. As the evening approached, she could feel the anticipation building within her. Her packmates had gathered around, watching with curiosity and envy as she prepared for her first shift. When the moon rose, she had run out and stood in the moonlight, waiting for the shift. She had stood in the same spot until the moon had passed its peak, and nothing happened. All her life she had recurring nightmares of not shifting. She used to think it stemmed from not knowing who her birth mother was, but now she knew it was a glance into her future.
The disappointment was crushing. Saphira's heart felt heavy with the weight of her shattered dreams. The whispers and murmurs of her packmates grew louder, and she could feel their judgmental stares piercing through her. Either way, she was wolf-less. She ran as fast as she could to the mountains and stared out over the cliff, crying into the night, wondering why the moon goddess would do this to her. She couldn’t understand why she was different, why she was cursed to remain human while everyone else embraced their true nature. This had been the only thing she wanted in life. The only thing that pulled her through. Now it was gone.
While she was standing by the cliff edge, Ruby, her half-sister, had followed her and told her she was a disgrace to the family and needed to be disposed of. Ruby pretended to walk away, before turning and charging towards her with a clear intent to push her over the cliff. Just as panic set in, Connor appeared out of nowhere, sprinting towards her. He reached her first and shoved her out of Ruby’s path. The force of Connor's push sent Saphira sprawling to the side. She hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. By the time she scrambled to her feet, Ruby was already screaming, leaning over the edge of the cliff. Her cries echoed in the night, mingling with the sound of the rushing river below. Saphira's heart pounded loudly in her chest as she frantically scanned the area for Connor, but he was nowhere to be seen. Rushing to the edge of the steep ledge, she peered down into the dark river below, shouting his name and praying for a response, but the night remained eerily silent. Tears streamed down her face as she desperately searched for any sign of him. The cold wind whipped through her hair, adding to the chill of dread that had settled in her bones. She called his name again and again, her voice growing hoarse. But all she received in return was the relentless roar of the water and the haunting silence of the night.
It wasn’t long after that the rest of the pack arrived. Saphira hadn’t even realized Ruby had left, but Ruby had already started spreading rumors, accusing her of pushing Connor. The whispers spread like wildfire, and soon the entire pack was buzzing with accusations and pointed fingers. Despite Saphira's desperate efforts to tell the truth, no one believed her. The mistrust and hostility in their eyes were palpable, and it felt as though the walls were closing in on her.
The only reason she was not killed on the spot was because, after hours of searching, they couldn’t find a body. This fact left them without conclusive proof of her alleged crime. The pack was torn, divided between those who wanted immediate retribution and those who believed in the possibility of Connor's survival. She wanted to search for Connor herself, to prove her innocence and find her brother, but instead, she was forcefully taken into the pack dungeons to be punished like any other werewolf accused of such a heinous act.
She had been subjected to eighteen lashes with a whip coated in silver, corresponding to the number of years she had lived. This punishment also served as a cruel reminder that Connor would never reach his eighteenth birthday. The lack of a wolf meant that silver did not affect her as it would a werewolf, but it also meant her wounds wouldn't heal as quickly, if at all. The worst part about the punishment, everyone knew it was likely she didn't have a wolf, so there was a high chance she wouldn't survive the wounds. Luckily, or unluckily, for Saphira, this was not the case.
To this day, she bore horrible scars across her back, a relentless reminder of her brother’s death. The physical pain had diminished over time, yet the emotional torment persisted, entwined with the scars and etched onto her soul. Each mark symbolized not just the loss of her brother but also the guilt and shame that accompanied his memory. She felt the weight of the pack's judgment press down on her, casting a shadow over every aspect of her existence. The whispers of suspicion and the cold stares were a constant reminder of her perceived crime. Despite the passing years, the burden of that night remained ever-present, carving deep into her heart and mind.
But Saphira refused to believe that her life was truly over.
She could never accept that her brother Connor had died for her, nor could she accept the betrayal of her half-sister Ruby.
An unnamed force seemed to rise within Saphira; she thought she would awaken her powerful wolfish instincts, uncover the truth behind her brother's tragic death, and avenge him.
This was her only motivation to live!
