In the Holy Cross continent, on a wide, sun-drenched farm, a little girl runs through golden fields chasing butterflies.
Laughter bubbles from her lips as she lifts her palm, and a stream of violet-coloured magic flickers out, shaping into glowing butterflies that flutter among the real ones, indistinguishable from nature's own.
The hue of the magic reveals the girl is a witch, but now and then, her eyes flash a bright yellow.
That yellow gleam means more.
She is not just a witch—she is also a werewolf.
And those flickers of yellow in her eyes tell of her nearing her first transformation.
Werewolf children are born human, and only gain their shifting ability once they reach five years old.
Suddenly, she stops playing.
With a burst of unnatural speed, she rushes to the edge of the farm where it touches the forest.
A moment later, a majestic golden wolf emerges from the trees, fur shimmering in the sunlight.
Instead of fear, the girl squeals with joy and dashes forward, wrapping her small arms around the wolf's thick neck, shouting, "Daddy!" at the top of her lungs.
The great wolf leans down gently, accepting the hug.
Then, with the sound of cracking bones, the golden wolf begins to shift.
Bones reform and limbs shrink as fur gives way to skin—until the man stands upright, wearing only a brief.
From a branch nearby, he takes the clothes he left behind before transforming.
Once dressed, he walks forward and scoops the girl up into his arms.
"How's my daughter?" he asks, smiling, voice soft with love.
They walk toward the house, the little girl chattering excitedly in his arms.
She tells him all about her day—about butterflies, magic, and waiting for him to come home.
That evening, Valerie sits in front of a birthday cake, tiny flames dancing atop the candles.
Friends, family, and pack members surround her, clapping and cheering as she cuts the cake.
"Happy birthday, Valerie!" they shout with joy.
Valerie beams and offers the first slice to her mother and father, who share it together with a smile.
Later, as music and laughter fill the background, a small group gathers with her father some distance from the celebration.
Her father's expression is tense as he asks, "Is the location protected? My daughter will transform for the first time tonight."
A tall man beside him nods. "Yes, Alpha. We've escorted all outsiders outside the reserve. Patrols are in place—no one will sneak in."
Valerie's father nods again, but the weight on his face doesn't lift.
He is the Alpha of the Goldenfang Pack—yet even with all his power, there is nothing he can do to guide his daughter through what comes next.
Because Valerie is not just a werewolf.
She is a hybrid, born of werewolf and witch blood.
She has the resilient body of a werewolf and the deep well of magic from her witch lineage.
But those blessings bring danger.
She was born with two separate magical cores—one from each bloodline.
Her witch magic has already awakened.
Tonight, with the full moon, her werewolf core will stir for the first time.
And when it does, a clash between the two forces may erupt inside her young body.
As midnight nears, the party winds down.
Valerie, her parents, and the core members of the pack leave the lights behind and walk into the forest.
They pass through thick woods until they reach a wide clearing bathed in silver moonlight.
Valerie steps forward, drawn to the centre as if the moonlight itself is calling her.
As the clock strikes twelve, a tremor runs through her body.
Her expression twists in confusion and fear.
"Mother, what is happening?" she asks, her voice trembling.
Her mother kneels beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"Daughter, do you not want to become a wolf like your father?"
Valerie sniffs and nods with a small smile. "Yes."
Her father, Virgil, steps forward. "Then stay calm. This will be your first turn. You'll be okay."
Valerie straightens, her little face tight with resolve.
She nods again—and then suddenly screams.
The sound tears through the night as her small body collapses to the grass.
Bones begin to snap and twist under her skin.
She cries out again and again, her tiny frame convulsing under the full moon.
Rei clutches Virgil's arm. "Virgil, why is this taking so long? I've never heard of a first turn lasting this long."
Virgil's jaw tightens. "It's her witch side. It's resisting the change—refusing to let her complete the turn."
Rei's eyes flare with panic. "Then, if I suppress her witch magic… would that help?"
"I don't know," Virgil growls. "But at this rate, our daughter might die from the pain."
Without another word, Rei raises her hands.
Violet wisps of magic swirl at her fingertips before flowing gently into Valerie's body.
The scream falters.
The snapping slows.
Her little form begins to shift fully at last—fur pushing through skin, limbs elongating.
Rei and Virgil watch as her trembling body stabilises, the worst of the agony fading.
A shared breath of relief escapes them both.
Then, the night is split by a chorus of howls.
Before they can make sense of it, gunshots crack through the trees.
Virgil's eyes narrow—now he understands.
They are under attack.
"Draver!" he barks. "Go and command the pack!"
The massive second-in-command shifts without hesitation, his form exploding into a hulking golden wolf.
Several others follow, disappearing into the forest like bolts of light.
Gunfire continues, distant but steady, echoing through the trees.
Virgil turns back just in time to see Valerie's transformation nearing its end—only her head remains unchanged.
Then, without warning, an explosion erupts behind Rei.
She's flung through the air, crashing into the grass with a sharp cry.
Valerie screams again, her pain rekindled as the transformation stalls.
Virgil roars, eyes flaring gold, and turns toward the treeline.
From the shadows, black-clad figures step into the moonlight, rifles raised, surrounding them.
He growls low, fury burning in his chest.
He could tear through them—kill every last one.
But his wife lies injured, and his daughter is helpless mid-turn.
So he doesn't move.
"You're breaking the agreement," he snarls.
The hunters say nothing at first.
Then one steps forward, masked face turning toward Virgil.
"But a hybrid has been born in your territory," the man says coldly.
The words cut deep.
The agreement—meant to protect supernatural races—becomes void when a hybrid is born.
Because of the prophecy.
A prophecy that foretells the rise of a new era—one led by a hybrid of three races.
To prevent that future, the hunters destroy all two-race hybrids before they can happen.
And now they've come for Valerie.
Rei's voice cuts through the chaos, fierce and desperate.
"Don't worry about me! Kill them and protect our daughter!"
Despite her injury, she forces herself upright, eyes glowing violet, and releases a storm of magic.
The hunters open fire, bullets tearing through branches and dirt.
Rei's spells strike first—blasts of pure force hurl two hunters into trees with bone-breaking speed.
She is a master witch, and her magic devastates the battlefield.
But her body is still flesh—human-frail, and blood begins to soak her dress from reopened wounds.
Virgil nods once, his voice a command of thunder.
"Kill them!"
His pack, those still loyal, charge with growls and snarls, transforming mid-run.
But before Virgil can shift, a sudden jolt of pain twists through his gut.
He looks down.
A silver dagger glints in his belly.
His knees hit the ground, strength draining.
Behind him stands Lucas, the third in command, blade in hand, eyes cold.
"I told you to break the bond with your mate," Lucas says. "A hybrid would bring ruin to us all. But you didn't listen."
All around, chaos erupts as divided loyalties fracture the pack.
Some wolves turn on their brothers.
Fangs clash. Blood flies.
Rei sees Virgil fall and screams his name, her voice full of rage and fear.
Her eyes lock on Lucas.
A flash of magic bursts from her palm.
Lucas is blasted off his feet, slamming into a tree with a sickening crunch.
But the blast leaves her shield weakened, and bullets rip into her back before she can cast again.
She stumbles, coughing blood, but refuses to fall.
Virgil, gasping for breath, grips the dagger's hilt and yanks it free.
His hands shift into claws—thick, gold, and furious.
He leaps forward, slashing the nearest hunter across the chest.
Blood sprays.
Rei fights beside him, flinging spells even as wounds open across her arms and legs.
They bleed.
They stagger.
But they fight.
Because Valerie still breathes.
Virgil lunges forward—only to freeze mid-step as a sword impales him from behind.
The blade is silver, veined with glowing purple, and it tears through his chest, blood erupting from his mouth.
The sword withdraws on its own and soars through the air.
A hooded figure steps from the shadows, the sword circling them like a loyal beast.
Without warning, the blade flashes again—an arc of deadly light.
It strikes Rei, shattering her weakened shield and piercing her heart.
She gasps, eyes wide, then crumples beside Virgil.
Both drop to their knees, bloodied and dying, turning one final time toward their daughter.
Valerie now stands in the moonlight, trembling, her golden fur glistening with sweat and magic.
She sees her parents fall, but doesn't understand.
Only the pain reaches her.
Then Lucas—still in wolf form—emerges behind her, fangs bared, mouth wide as he lunges to end her life.
But before his teeth touch her, Valerie raises her snout and howls.
The sound rips through the night like thunder cracking the heavens.
Silver magic explodes from her body—wild, violent, pure.
The force lashes out in every direction, sparing none who came with hatred in their hearts.
Hunters disintegrate in the light.
Traitorous pack members fall, bones snapping, screams fading.
Lucas is flung away like a rag doll, crashing into trees, unmoving.
Even the loyal wolves collapse, overwhelmed by the surge.
And when the storm dies, Valerie drops to the ground, unconscious, her fur flickering with both silver and violet sparks.
Later, through broken trees and scorched earth, Draver arrives with the rest of the pack.
But what greets them is no victory—only a battlefield littered with corpses.
Their Alpha lies dead.
So does Rei, their Luna, her body still warm with fading magic.
And at the centre, unconscious and human once more, is Valerie.
Draver walks to her slowly.
He kneels and breathes her scent—and in it, he smells the wild.
She turned.
She survived.
Some of the unconscious pack members begin to stir, groaning, bleeding, and dazed.
And when they realise what happened, fury erupts among them.
They curse Lucas, traitor to the blood.
It was not Virgil who doomed the pack—it was Lucas's betrayal that invited death.
But though Valerie still lives, she cannot remain.
The pack is broken, their numbers too few.
They cannot survive another attack, not with her presence drawing danger like a beacon.
Yet they cannot harm her either.
They saw what she became.
The power she unleashed was like nothing they had known.
She could be the beginning of the prophecy.
The one who bears the child of rebirth.
Virgil's younger brother, Vance, steps forward.
Silent, grim, he lifts the unconscious girl into his arms.
"I'll take her to Rei's people," he says.
"To the witches."
No one protests.
They nod, mourning.
They know this is the only way.
So Vance travels with Valerie to her mother's coven.
There, Rei's sister Enra awaits—a powerful witch in her own right.
She agrees without hesitation.
Together, they take Valerie and sail far north to the Icedic Continent.
A land of eternal frost where no ordinary humans can survive.
Only the coast holds a few human cities and scattered towns.
But deeper inland, supernatural races flourish in the frozen dark.
There, they've built hidden cities and towering strongholds.
Beasts, witches, vampires, and fae—all living side by side in the ice.
And there, in the heart of that cold, ancient land, Valerie will grow.