Breaking Free

My name is Avaline Rawling . Today is my 18th birthday, which I’ll be spending inside the slums, the place my father imprisons our kind. After the war against supernatural beings that began 30 years ago, anyone of supernatural abilities are feared, hated even. We’ve been banned from living in the villages and Towns that make up this land. Those who do live amongst humans go to extreme measures to hide their identity, although that’s been the truth long before the humans won the war. My father, Alarick Rawling was a well known diplomat before the war began. He fell in love with my mother, Rieka, a human from a farming village who was trained as a warrior. My mother was proud to guard her home in any way needed. She came along to guard a village caravan of supplies being traded with another major settlement when she unexpectedly ran into my father. She decided not to return to her village, choosing to be with my father instead. Tensions had been running high between humans and supernatural for centuries. Humans were always advancing in the ways of technology and growing in population. Humans felt inferior to those blessed with gifts of the supernatural. Understandable as some supernatural creatures can be vindictive, just as some humans can. Most super natural beings lived scattered preferring to live alone, finding another being like you was unusual back then. Many hid their true identities to avoid conflict with humans. Others would attack human villages unchecked. Werewolves gone feral with the moon would rampage villages, Vampires crazed with thirst would do the same. Or so the stories say anyway. The humans paranoia was through the roof. After years of this, all it took was some well placed propaganda from the human diplomats to tip the scales. All out war broke out not long after. Humans attacked without question, supernaturals would do the same. The humans were much greater in number however and most supernatural beings were in to small of groups by comparison. The war was 7 years in. During a particularly nasty werewolf attack my parents fled to my mother’s village. The villagers had survived quite well with minimal casualties. My grandparents were sadly among them. The village was fairly large for the time. Villagers usually kept to themselves, and nearly all had been trained to handle themselves in combat. They produced much by farming and were constantly under attack by thieves. Being reunited with my mother’s village set things in motion. My father, ever the opportunist, he saw the opportunity to lead. Having my mother, and her village by his side they were an unstoppable team. 5 years later, my mother who was 8 months pregnant with me, stood beside my father as he was inducted to be the King of our land once the war was won. He was said to have ended the war, in favor of the humans, through his powerful voice over the public and my mother’s tactical guidance over the massive army they built, starting with her village. He promised to keep the humans safe from the supernatural, to be a fair and just leader. Now, It’s been 11 long years since I’ve seen the love and light in my father’s eyes. When I was 7 years old, a rebel assassin was sent to take my mother from us, an attempt to correct my father’s path as a leader through loss. The years of being insecurely in power had eaten away at him. His facade slowly changed from a fierce politician/loving family man to the slimy leader he is today. Attacks from starving witches or thirst vampires were sporadic, as they aren’t allowed any of our own supplies. As the attacks grew in numbers fear of losing his title turned him to cruelty. My father began hoarding a majority of the supplies to himself, since many of the outer villages had since cut off delivering their goods after attacks. Many just didn’t have supplies to send anymore, and didn’t feel safe producing more. Our people are now poor and hungry. The loss of safe jobs effect everyone, even those who were once much better off. The worst of Poverty exists in sectors like the slums, and a prison was constructed for supernatural and human convicts alike. Anyone who disagrees with my fathers distribution of supplies or is no longer favored by my father now lives here. My mother disagreed with his course of direction, and argued with him nightly. In public she stayed by his side wordlessly. Attacks continued to grow in number, and so did my father’s paranoia. Prisons began to fill up with rebellious citizens and any exposed supernaturals. If any supernatural citizens were exposed he made an example of them. My father would publicly punish them in tortuous ways, only after they were harmed beyond recognition privately. He didn’t want his people to be aware that there were supernaturals living in the city. When citizens would come up missing people would commonly assume they starved to death. If any human was caught rebelling against my father’s rules, or stealing food from his supply, they would receive similar a punishment. However, he made sure their fellow citizens recognized them, to make a statement to everyone else. My father used those public punishments to strike obedience into our people through fear. As it got worse my family started receiving threats from a rebellion. The people weren’t happy with my father and were demanding a change. Nevertheless he stayed his course, trying to scare humans and supernatural into submission. My mother was taken from me because my father refused to change his ways, and I haven’t seen any love in his eyes since that day. My mother’s death provided the opposite of the desired effect, he’s only gotten more cruel, more paranoid. My father hunted down the people responsible and dealt with them personally. If there was anyone he truly loved in this world it was my mother. With her death, any humane part of my father that was left died off too. That much was made obvious with his worsened treatment of our people. He was smart enough to treat the people of Ankaren Ridge better, but he put a closed fist on the outer settlements. He expanded his guard within our town. Guards are fed better and paid well,enough to ensure loyalty. Any citizen to weak to sick to make the cut still remained poor and suffered. To make everything worse, my father has kept a dark secret hidden from his people for far too long. I am a werewolf, the gene passed onto me from my father, a trait he has been suppressing his whole life. One he probably hoped had died with him. He had been hiding his true identity since long before the war. A werewolf was not taken seriously amongst the human populations, who were already distrustful of our kind. The only major settlements were primarily of the human race, with supernatural creatures so scattered. My father knew the only way to matter amongst them was to pretend to be one of them. He had never wanted chi for this reason. The wolfen gene either passes on to offspring, or it doesn’t. Even among two werewolves it is possible for a human to be born. Only those who are strong enough to handle the transformation are bestowed the gift by the moon goddess. In my fathers new world which was terrified of supernatural, doctors DNA test every new citizen. My Father had our information forged as only the king could do. My father kept minimal staff in our mansion, and they were not allowed out of its premises. It eventually became clear that they kew little about us, and he wanted to keep it that way. At 10 years old I started having uncontrolable changes. Migraines, sore bones, and inconsolable fits of rage when I didn’t get my way. My father had a room prepared much like his own which was able to handle my transformation. My father tried to forcibly tech me how to hide what I am. However as I child I believed it was unbelievably cool that I was able to do things the humans could not. I was stronger, faster. I could see better at night, yet my father wanted me to repress my abilities. To make sure our world never knew. After the next three years of his restrictive teachings I began to disobey him. My ability to control my temper only got worse through his ideals. He would punish me for transforming at all, and banned any use of our abilities. So like the teenager I was, I rebelled. I began embracing my transformation and tried to better understand my abilities rather than shove them down and pretend they weren’t there. Instead slowing my breathing and clearing my head to stop the change I would picture specific parts of the change. I’d imagine my fingernails turning into claws, or my teeth into fangs. I would use my night vision in human form, and tested my strength on anything I could get my hands on. My father saw my unwillingness to hide and grew evermore disdainful to my presence. He knew if he couldn’t control me, it would reflect badly upon him. Once my father fully understood my defiance he kept me away from the public and staff as much as possible. Unfortunately for my father, that didn’t deter me from my current corse of action. As I got older over the years I only questioned him more as to why we had to hide. I now had full control of my shift and could turn parts of myself at will. I had seldom struggled with fits of rage. I would hardly ever shift without explicitly choosing to do so which was something my father still couldn’t control himself. I didn’t understand why we couldn’t live amongst the humans in peace. I certainly didn’t understand why we had to hide, as we were superior in nearly every way. Humans were only superior in mass numbers and weaponry. At age 15 I started to use my abandoned transformation room as a place to test myself and push my abilities even further. I’d heard stories of my mom in battle, and wanted nothing more than to be like her. I really just wanted a way to connect with her. I’d read books, and done all the research I could to learn how to fight and put it to use. I used training dummies from the guard and set them up in that room. Having my werewolf speed and strength only made it easier. I’m sure my anger at my father helped push me as well. At this point my father was getting quite fed up with me, I wasn’t willing to bend to his wishes. He knew that I was dangerous to his rule over the humans, that I wasn’t willing to accept that he needed me to hide who I was. At 16 and 17 the arguments constantly rang thought the halls. I was challenging his authority, questioning his right to lead these people. I questioned why the humans and supernatural even needed to be led by one leader at all. I began to get restless, I had heard news of people rebelling. Humans and supernatural alike, all of which were fed up of my fathers dictatorship. The hope for the future rose within me. I planned for months. I had decided to dethrone my father, a plan which began with me revealing myself to our people. I had hoped it would stoke outrage in citizens. It did. My chosen stage was a public news report where my father would tell citizens in detail about any recent attacks, and the measures taken to protect us from them. Plus any other news that he believed our people needed to know. As his daughter, I was always required to sit next two him, and recite his mantra “For protection, For liberation, For human kind.” with him at the end of the report. I chose to expose myself by illuminating my eyes, and extending my claws and fangs on live camera during the closing mantra. The uproar was instantaneous. Once My father caught wind of what I done, he immediately locked me in my room and schemed up ways to spin it back in his favor, as I had a feeling he would. Our people were terrified. They couldn’t believe a werewolf was living amongst them this whole time, let alone the daughter of the man who swore to protect them. They questioned my father’s ability to truly follow through on his promises, seeing as I lived under his nose all along. As my father spun the story, he had no idea I was a werewolf. He immediately put blame on my mother, telling the world she lied to him about her genealogy. He publicly had another fake DNA test which seemed to fool everyone. The people were in awe that my mother had “lied.” He told the world my mother must have paid off our old doctor to fake my documented test. Our previous doctor was punished by death for his crimes, which the world didn’t know included lying on my father’s behalf, not my mother’s. My father took stage and proclaimed that while it hurt him to no end to make a decision no father should have to make, he was sending me to the prison in the slums. As it would be expected for any other supernatural caught on our lands. He went absolutely above and beyond to make it sound like locking me away was the hardest thing he had ever decided to do. What a joke. My father hasn’t so much as hugged me since my mother died, let alone look at me with anything but disgust in his eyes.