AUTHOR’S POV
Wanda sat frozen on the bed, her back rigid, her hands limp in her lap. Her mind spun, thoughts colliding as she tried to grasp everything her mother had just said.
It sounded impossible, absurd even, and yet she couldn’t dismiss it. She couldn’t laugh it off or call it madness any longer because her mother believed everything she had just told her. There was no uncertainty in her eyes. No hesitation. And there was that birthmark.
Wanda’s gaze drifted, unseeing, as memory surfaced unbidden. The mark on her skin had never looked like a birthmark. It had always looked like a scar. But werewolves? Magical kingdoms? Royals? Could such things really exist? Could she really be a werewolf?
Her mother kept talking, her voice still threaded with anger and grief over what had happ
