The dream was the same every night. Crimson eyes, sharp fangs, fur black as midnight. I could never move, just watch as the wolf circled me. Everywhere around us was fog, permeating the air and ground so intensely that nothing else was visible except a dim glow from the moon above.
His snarl echoed in the stillness, making me flinch with the intensity of the sound, then leaped at me, mouth closing around my throat.
I jolted upright in bed, heart thudding. I didn’t cry out; I knew better than that. In this world, showing emotion was showing weakness. That was something I couldn’t afford. Instead, I silently made my way to the bathroom and locked myself inside. Turning on the bathroom lights were too bright for such a late hour, so I snapped my fingers and a small ball of violet light shimmered to life in the air beside my head.
I gingerly turned the water on and splashed it on my face, the cool liquid chasing away the nighttime misery that the nightmare always brought about. As I dried off, I glanced into the mirror and immediately skirted my eyes away. I didn’t need to see it, didn’t want to see the scars marring my face. That night in the forest had changed everything. I lost my family to the creature's bloodlust, and my fiance to the disfiguring scars now prominent on my face.
But it didn't matter. I was a witch, a daughter of the goddess. I didn't need to be loved, only feared.