Blood Moon

It started hundreds of years ago, a war between good and evil that swayed the delicate balance of life on Earth. One side born of a sinister transaction with pure evil, the other a way to eradicate it.

Through the generations, the battle continues.

***

The life of a wolven, or as most knew us, a gaurdian, wasn't always a glorious one, but it had its perks. The heightened senses, boosted speed, and amplified strength while appearing completely mortal were what I enjoyed most about being what I was. Hearing a pin drop from a mile away or outrunning even the fastest of Ebenshire's magnificent stallions on two legs was no small feat. I took pride in what I was and where I came from.

Most days.

But others, I didn't want to admit it out loud.

I wasn't like other wolven with their striking blue eyes and the ability to shift into a massive wolf at will. Something was wrong with me. No one was sure what or why I was born of two full wolven parents and carried all the traits except for the most important. Every shaman and elder had said there was no explanation. A wolven who could not shift had never happened.

Of course, as news usually does, whispers traveled amongst the other packs from the day I was born. My unusual eye color had created quite the stir. And when I hit puberty and couldn't shift for the first time, the general consensus was that I was cursed. And maybe I was. How else could one explain that I was wolven, but not.

Mortals were none the wiser since I lacked the signature cerulean eyes my kind carries, branded instead by irises the color of the emerald fields outside of the capital. But it was painfully obvious to whomever could scent I was wolven, that something was off.