Alma: Surrounded by destiny

Prologue

2025 — It may sound like just another ordinary year to some, but for us, it marked the 300th anniversary of the downfall of Veil, and 207 years since the end of the greatest war the world had ever seen.

In 1725, humans ruled the Earth, and creatures of the night were nothing more than stories — told to frighten common folk or used as a ruse to dispose of a bothersome neighbor. Or so they thought.

But we existed, even if humans rarely spotted us among them — and more often than not, they killed more of their own than we ever did. All of that changed, though, on a single moonless night. And as history often goes, the event that set everything off was deceptively ordinary — nothing more than a well-timed string of coincidences and overlooked details no one would’ve thought to connect.

Territorial conflict was common — not only among humans but between our species as well. By "our species," I mean witches, werewolves, vampires, and whatever else your imagination can conjure. On that fateful night, a particular group of werewolves in a small town near Colombia decided it was time to expand their territory beyond the Black River riverbank into Brazilian lands.

The problem began when they neared the border and encountered what they believed to be another pack. Nothing unexpected, as their “intelligence” service (and yes, the quotation marks matter here) had told them another pack was expected in the area. That information had been confirmed by scouts two days before the main force arrived.

Unfortunately, what they found was not a rival pack at all. It was a Portuguese Jesuit camp — a human one, if you're wondering. Now, it wasn't unheard of for such camps to be attacked, and even if the savagery of the deaths raised some eyebrows, most people at the time would have been content to blame it on the indigenous people of the area.

But something about the encounter had caused confusion. Details later obscured in the official records suggested the camp gave off a presence that misled the wolves into thinking they were dealing with their own kind. It was never explained, of course. Not properly. And most, like me, still believe the wolves acted on bad intel even if they would not own up to it.

This particular camp, however, held the son of a very important indigenous chief in the region, as well as the sons of not one, but two highly religious and politically powerful Portuguese nobles of the time. All three were killed during the assault.

I’ll spare you the long and tedious investigation that followed. But suffice it to say: tensions were already high. The Portuguese had been growing increasingly aggressive in the region, and the alliance between the Church and colonial powers meant any affront to missionary efforts was treated as a personal insult to the Crown. When it came to light that the attack had originated in Colombian territory, Spanish interests were pulled in. The Jesuits, for their part, demanded justice. Rumors of supernatural involvement spread like wildfire, and as accusations bounced between colonial factions, fingers began pointing not just at native groups, but at forces no one dared speak of in official circles. The result was inevitable. It didn’t take long before the spark ignited something far larger than any of them anticipated.

A global conflict began to take form. And this time, its ugly face wouldn’t turn its eyes away from us.

Less than five years after that incident, the world was on fire. By the end of the humans’ relentless pursuit of vengeance, the night creatures had been exposed.

Battles became more public, and in the age of early photography and written records, our kind could no longer remain in the shadows. The masks we wore slipped in the blood and fire of war.

Alliances were formed — some to extinguish our kind, others to exploit us. We, in turn, formed alliances of our own — with each other and with the few humans who sought to benefit from our powers and abilities. The war lasted eighty-eight long years. I can't begin to account for how long it took for the grudge to cool or for us to begin learning how to coexist. It's still very much a work in progress.

But now, we have our own territories — countries, even — shared rules and laws, and we no longer hide in the shadows of this world.

There is still a long road ahead, but most people, myself included, believe that history was a painful yet necessary sacrifice in building a new, fairer, and more prosperous era for all.

As I reflect on all of this, it's hard not to feel the weight of that legacy on my shoulders. Born into a line that helped shape that history, I now take my place beside my mother, caring for and maintaining the balance between our allies and our borders with great pride.

As I am nearing my twenty-fourth birthday, I will, at last, be allowed to conduct a border meeting on my own — and I can barely contain the excitement.