Stalked by the Gods, Blessed by the Moon

Ch. 5 - The Short Version

AYLA’S POV

My dad told me I was a werewolf. When I called it that, he corrected me and said they preferred to be called shifters—at least my mom did. She said that werewolf was too much like a Hollywood movie, and she didn’t like that. She was proud of who she was, mostly.

My parents met before my mom first shifted, but she knew her entire life who and what she was since she came from two were…shifter parents. When she knew my dad was the one, she let him in on her family secret. He didn't believe her until she was 21, though. And by that time, they had already had me. My parents got started on a family life quite early, and her becoming her shifter self wrecked them.

Because it wasn’t just that she was a shifter, she was cursed. Cursed with a power she didn’t understand other than it was a family curse passed down for generations. She called it Moonfire, as did the rest of the shifter community. It’s why they were shunned from shifter packs, and instead, my mom married a human. No one wanted to “breed” with a cursed shifter.

He said they did try different forms of birth control, and they had no intentions to have children. But I was a happy accident, he said. My mom was, for lack of a better terminology, over the moon when she was pregnant with me, despite knowing eventually she’d need to leave me due to her curse.

My parents spent thousands on traveling to search for a cure when I was young and as her twenty-first birthday neared. Being away from me was hard, but they figured it was worth the sacrifice to ensure my mom could one day see me graduate and hopefully never feel the brunt of the curse myself. Because despite being half-human, my mom was convinced that I was cursed as well.

Eventually, her birthday came. And at sundown, she shifted and almost burned down the house. She ran away in fear and only came back once she had shifted back, but the power was apparently eating her from the inside. She wasn’t able to control it. Even so far as accidentally burning my arm, which explained the strange scar I sported on my left arm. She was devastated.

As she dealt with her grief of never being able to hold me again or even kiss her husband, her mental health deteriorated. She went down internet rabbit holes, spending all hours of the night searching, sleeping during the day, and not taking care of herself or me. But luckily, my dad was there to pick up the slack.

One day, he woke up, and she was gone. He rushed to my room and saw that my bed was also empty, and multiple items of personal value and clothing were missing. My mom had disappeared with me, but she had left a letter. She’d found a cure and couldn’t bring my dad, but she promised to write.

He knew I was safe with her ultimately and never got the cops involved, knowing there would be no solution. Instead, he begged the shifter community for help. They begrudgingly accepted but never found her.

For months, my dad only got letters with pictures of me and no return address. He only knew that the postage said it was from somewhere up north. He went there to search for us, but there was no luck. Until finally, he got the phone call. My mom. He hadn’t heard her voice in ages and cried, begging her to return.

But something was different about her. She was calm and collected, nothing like the fragile woman that had left. She told him how much she loved him and me. That I was safe but he needed to come get me before it was too late. Then she hung up.

My dad wasted no time, hopping in the car and driving a mere four hours away. He was devastated that she’d been so close but felt like she’d been so far. When he arrived at the small cabin on a dirt road with no neighbors, he noticed how dark and quiet the cabin was. He thought he’d gotten the wrong address.

He knocked and heard nothing. But then he heard wailing inside and broke down the door because he recognized the voice. It was me. I was standing alone in the cabin, crying, holding my arms out for my dad, screaming for him. He grabbed me up, hugged me, and turned towards the bed in the single-room cabin. A lump on the bed indicated someone was lying there.

He lifted the covers without putting me down even briefly and saw my mom. She lay there, looking pale and decimated. As if she hadn’t eaten in the months she’d been gone. And now she really was. Gone. She’d passed away. She knew her time was coming, and my dad needed to go quickly before she did. To ensure I was safe.

And that…is the story that my dad told me. Showing me multiple letters and pictures to back up the story he told me. It was laid right out in front of me. But the only thing he didn’t have was proof that werewolves existed and that I was cursed.

So I left, angry at him. Calling him a liar and saying that my mom was just mentally ill. I even told him that maybe she wouldn’t have gone off the deep end if he had been a better husband. I said hurtful things that I’ll regret later. Right now, I want to eat ice cream and pretend the outside world doesn’t exist.

The TV in my apartment was playing the news. I never watched the news, but it was the only channel I could think of to switch on to keep constant chatter in the background as I ruminated over what my dad had told me.

Werewolves, or shifters. They are supposedly real. And I’m one of them. But I’m cursed. With Moonfire. A power so strong that I won’t be able to control it. And tonight, at sundown, is when it will begin.

I glanced over at the bag next to me from a local general store. Chains and a fire extinguisher were nestled in the bag. I might not believe my dad, but I wasn’t stupid. I’d be prepared for whatever was going to happen. And I wouldn’t run into the woods like some fire demon wolf. I’d chain myself to the bed, able to grab the fire extinguisher from nearby.

I wasn’t sure about the complexities of shifting to a wolf if the chains would fall off. So I figured wrapping it around my waist and neck was my best bet. They’d just fall off my arms if I shifted into a damn wolf.

Looking out the window, I saw the sun was beginning to set. It was time to get ready.