The Chosen One •

29

✨ Isabel ✨

The warm sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled light over the small field behind Mrs. Black's house. I sat cross-legged on the soft grass, the earthy scent grounding me as a gentle breeze played with the curls I had pulled into a loose ponytail. Across from me, my grandmother—Margaret, though I quickly learned to never call her anything other than "nana"—sat with an almost regal posture, her wise eyes fixed on me.

"Focus, Isabel," she said softly, her voice steady but firm.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, and tried again to reach for Raya, my wolf. My connection to her was growing stronger, but it was still... unstable. I felt her presence like a flickering flame, powerful but not yet fully mine to wield.

"Listen to her," Grandma encouraged. "She's there, waiting. You just have to meet her halfway."

As I concentrated, a deep ache bloomed in my bones, radiating through my body like a wave. My breath hitched, and my eyes snapped open.

"Good," Grandma said, not a hint of concern in her voice despite my discomfort. "That means you're close. Don't fight it, Isabel. Let it flow through you."

"I feel like my bones are going to break," I said through gritted teeth, the pain subsiding as quickly as it came.

She smiled faintly, her expression calm. "That's your wolf. She wants to come through, but the spells that protected you are still holding her back. You'll get there, child. Patience."

I nodded, wiping the sweat from my brow, and decided to take a break. Grandma seemed to sense my need for distraction because she shifted, adjusting her long skirt and leaning forward slightly.

"While we rest, I think it's time for a story," she said, her tone warm and inviting.

"A story?" I asked, tilting my head curiously.

"A history lesson," she clarified, her gaze sharp yet kind. "One you need to know."

I nodded, settling in as she began.

"Long ago," Grandma started, her voice dipping into the cadence of a storyteller, "the gods and goddesses ruled not just the heavens but the destinies of their creations. Among them were Kaelen, the god of night and blood, and Nera, the goddess of knowledge and magic. They were an odd pair—Kaelen, with his dark, brooding nature, and Nera, who was all light and understanding. And yet, they found balance in each other."

I leaned forward, captivated already.

"They struck an alliance," she continued, "not out of love, but necessity. Kaelen's vampires craved strength, and Nera's witches sought deeper knowledge. Together, they created what we now know as hybrids—beings who could wield both blood magic and arcane power. But this power wasn't given freely."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. "Only true mates—souls destined for one another—could unlock this dual potential. Without that connection, hybrids were just ordinary vampires or witches. And even their children couldn't inherit both gifts. Only one would dominate—Kaelen's blood or Nera's magic—ensuring balance."

I frowned, intrigued. "So... hybrids with both gifts are rare?"

"Very rare," Grandma confirmed. "And the gods meant for it to be that way. They saw these unions as a test of strength, adaptability, and loyalty. The offspring of such unions were like pieces in a divine game, fated to either bring unity or chaos."

Her words sent a chill down my spine. "What about wolves? Were they involved in all of this?"

Grandma nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Luna, the goddess of the moon and wolves, and Solis, the god of order and lycans, were lovers often at odds. Their creations were opposites by design—wolves wild and free, lycans disciplined and structured. But they shared a connection with Nera, who acted as a bridge between their worlds. Through her influence, werewolves, lycans, and witches could form sacred bonds. These bonds—true mateships—were more than romantic; they were divine connections blessed by the gods themselves."