《The Cursed Gift》 Prologue | A Birth of Gifts Imagine a world full of mysteries and great powers. An arcane land where some of the inhabitants roamed this world freely with such incredible powers of their own to control. After years of hiding in the shadows, lurking among the Naturals, they had grown and evolved into creatures unheard of. Ambitions had grown - believing there had to be more to life than the darkness. For loneliness could be the worst of all illnesses to cure. Being alone may have meant it was easier to pretend to be Natural as well, but it also left room for unknown danger. For those who wondered off, hardly ever came back. As one by one gifted person was found and slaughtered across the towns for all to see, a fury had erupted within their hearts. Having only a desire to be accepted into society, things had taken a dark turn quite quickly. Genocide had not been the answer they had been looking for. Realising that it had all come down to survival - the Gifted or the Ungifted. There could be no peace and harmony here - War had been declared. Such battles had a way to reunite lost family but also a way of losing them too. As the people began to flock to those with abilities that matched theirs; the four cultures were born from the ashes. Each gifted culture had grown their own kingdoms in time, ran by unique beliefs and different customs. None mirrored the other, for their priorities were vastly different. While some desired revenge, others sought out justice for the past crimes. To achieve such revenge, knowledge would be the only way to do that. Outsmart the enemies in order to extract their weaknesses. Those that desired revenge held the ability to manipulate the magic within the ground, twisting it to their darkest fantasies. Believing violence was the key to success. Not all agreed with such violent tactics, believing innocents were to be spared due to no guilt. By choosing to save a young Natural, the Shapeshifters had forever declared themselves an enemy to the Witches. As unfortunately, loyalty had only meant something to the former. If you are not a friend, you are surely a foe. Such news branched out to the other two gifted species. It had been a clear warning. If they were not willing to aid their revenge quest, then they too would become a part of the endless body piles in their wake. For fear of a war with two enemies on their tails, the aquatically gifted ran for sanctuary among the seas - the last known safe place for them. Their creativity was always rather evident in the way they were unusually quite resourceful in a pickle. Lastly, the more harmonious of the four species, desired just that - peace. To ensure this for themselves, they had abandoned their call to nature in this land and set off in search of a New Haven. A place where they could hide from those who wished them harm. War was not an option for the spirits, especially for as time evolved, their souls became connected to nature itself; a tree or plant in the anointed land was a Nymph''s life source if they could ever reach that highest blessing of Nature. A mission that would prove to be futile if the Witches abolished them. Running may not have originally been in their thoughts but survival always trumped everything else. It was not long before the nature spirits had become just stories the trees whispered in the wind - they were long gone and so was the beauty in this patch of the world. It had left when they had abandoned nature, taking its life and light with them. As the naturals only desired one thing above all else, the other traits seemed to matter little to them. Power is what fed their greedy souls and war was a means to achieve just that for them. After many years of more bloodshed on all participating parties'' sides, the only true way to overcome this had become evident. There were just too many naturals for them all to fight alone. It would only cause more death and destruction. The only way to truly survive and ensure their descendants do too, hiding had become the only sane option left on the table. If they wanted a forever home as much as the humans did then they needed to play fairly. They needed to offer peace wherever they went despite the urge to destroy growing stronger. Some cuts just do not quite heal over time. It would be almost like squishing a bug on a windshield kind of easy for them after all this time. Hiding in the shadows once more had given them time to grow stronger and smarter. The gifted ones had evolved and became wiser in time, having chosen to subdue their primal instincts in hope of harmony and survival. However, the more they allowed peace into their communities, forgetting the hatred of old ways, the more the naturals learned of the secrets they held dear. Secrets that had once again led to massacre among the opposing species, declaring a war forevermore. There would just never be a world where the Naturals would ever accept them. The werewolves took refuge in Snake''s Canyon where a human dared never to enter and the aquatically gifted ran for Destiny Valley where the sandy terrain made human produce hard to grow. This was the last seaport the naturals had not converted for their own will and purpose, and not for a lack of trying. The water was harsh and the terrain left little to no room for food. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. It was not a habitable place for someone who could not manipulate their surroundings. The last known Nymphs found sanctuary among the trees in the Twilight Forest - the last living connection to nature that the humans had not desolated yet. At least, those were the rumours but the more terrifying ones were that the Twilight Forest was dark and haunted. Conflicted ones that helped them once again become fables to their children. The places chosen by the creatures were the perfect secluded spots for them to continue prospering, regardless of the hatred knocking at their front doors. The only places where their gifts could be celebrated and honoured among friends. Places that were hidden well enough that as time went on, their species became a myth once more, keeping them safe from not only the townspeople''s pitchforks but even the day guns were invented. The witches, however, had a much smarter idea than their fellow supernatural. They chose to cleverly hide in plain sight and watch as their species was declared a myth as well due to a cloaking spell that was cast across the land of Naporia, as they refused to move their home. Magic that interfered with the memories of those who were not gifted. All the naturals knew of that land was that it was a desolate wasteland that once housed the legend of witches. They called the lands the Illusion Fields to keep up with the old wives'' tale. It was that very tale they fed generations upon generations of naturals, spanning across the globe until everyone knew the tale of what once was. A legend that was to be feared, but never quite real enough to be seen as a threat. They lived in peace, believing such evil creatures only existed in their nightmares and endless bedtime stories. What kept the secret booming was that witches would only venture out if needed and that was usually once a year on the Mating Month. A tradition they had begun upholding when their ranks begun to fall over the centuries due to hunters. They would leave their village hidden in plain sight under the cloaking spell and venture to the nearest human village in order to pick a man to father their young. There was no more fear of the unknown for them. The war was no longer between humans and supernatural creatures by this time. For it had evolved and become between the creatures themselves - witches declaring a war over the imbalance shape-shifters bring to be a curse on the world. No man was ever meant to be part wolf or part anything at all in their opinion. It was a mistake the witches hoped to one day rectify. The witches of Naporia, Atopia & Idela had strange customs and an unusual way of life. They roamed free in their villages as their gifts were celebrated instead of shunned in public. Yet unfortunately, the witches could not bear sons, only daughters due to an ancient curse that loomed just beyond the horizon. Only the Clan Leader himself ever fathered a son. It had nothing to do with the woman he chose as a bride; for he alone was anointed by the gods to bear the next clan leader or so their ancient texts depict. When a son is born every two-hundred and forty years, they are named the Aryan and labelled their next Clan Leader. For Aryan means master, never to be confused for common-folk. An Aryan takes his rightful place as leader on his thirtieth birthday and reigns for many, many years before picking a Witch Bride to bear the next heir. They had traditions and regulations, for everything was done by the book and not a single thing was to be done differently. Until it was. The night a witch gives birth to a new child, Lakshita ¨C the seer ¨C would bless the child. She would then share a few words told to her by the gods, repeating them for the entire tribe to hear. On a stormy night where the moon hung at its fullest in the sky, the witches of Naporia danced in the rain in preparation for the newest addition to their clan. They would weave in and out of each other across the wet, damp grass. Chanting the same few words over and over. "Let her be blessed to do your works, gods," the first murmur came, blessing her among their ranks. "Let her be your greatest soldier, always stronger than the ones who came before her," the second murmur followed to give purpose to the infant. "Let her be the wisest among us, the helper of your path," the final murmur spoken to establish heritage upon the new addition. Three commands given to every new born in their tribe; blessed to serve, anointed to fight and the task that of her mother. Every witch plays the same role in the coven as her mother before her. It was their tradition among the tribal people; roles were passed down to their offspring to keep the village in perfect order. On the east side of the village, in the healer''s tent of all tents, lay a woman in her forties who barely looked a day over twenty on a rug made of buffalo skin. Her hair was frizzled and her eyes bloodshot. Sweat rolled down her face in waves and every moment that ticked, the redness in it grew. Her breathing shallow due to struggling to breathe in the hot conditions. The baby had been born not even moments ago, relief settling in everybody''s bones. "This baby is blessed by the gods," Lakshita said, smiling down at the newborn baby in her frail arms as she placed three fingers across her forehead with some anointed oil. It was a rare occurrence for a baby to be specifically blessed by the gods. It had not happened in over a hundred years and the last blessed baby was Lakshita herself. The last seer before Lakshita vowed that the latter would replace her as she had been blessed by the gods to see the future many, many moons ago. In time she would learn what certain omens would mean and retell them to their tribe. Lakshita, named for that very purpose, did indeed inherit such a gift. But this time, the blessing of this new infant would be something else entirely. "Your baby, Asha, will be named Alisa. Protected by the gods. A gift by the gods to us for our faithfulness for many generations." The fair-skinned woman smiled tearfully through her soft words. It was a huge honour when the gods named a child in their community. The baby was indeed special if given a name in mind by the seer before birth. The old woman with greying hair passed the quiet infant over to Asha. The baby was wide-eyed, taking in her surroundings one by one. "It is indeed a good sign when a child is silent," the Clan Leader said as he walked in with a smirk of content. He nodded to himself, pleased with the newest addition to his clan. "She is wide-eyed and curious. Alisa is a gift from the gods, she must be treated as such." His voice boomed across the dimly-lit tent. The little baby girl blinked her eyes owlishly up at her new leader. There was curiosity evident in those bright, blue almond-shaped eyes. "What dat''?" A little five-year-old boy leaned over the makeshift bed, tugging his tiny arms as he pointed at the weirdly shaped birthmark the new baby had. As if on cue, the other three people in the tent peered over at the baby''s back. On the right side, a small birthmark sat, with weirdly shaped lines running horizontal. It was barely an inch in length, but it was a known fact in their culture; birth marks were omens. "The gods are pleased for sure," Lakshita murmured, nodding as a hint of a smile appeared on her graceful lips once more. She stood up from her crouching position beside Asha and moved aside the bear skin to let the wind into the tent. The moment the wind had touched young Alisa the skies cleared, and the chanting had stopped. The Clan Leader walked out with the infant nestled in his arms. He looked over at his clan, tight-lipped, as all eyes directed themselves upon him. A moment went by before he spoke with a clear and loud voice when delivering the final message to his followers. "And so, it shall be known; Alisa, a literal gift from the gods; for the favour that is given thrice a year on a full moon." 01 | Barbarians Know No Mercy Fourteen years later, in a flash of red hair flying across the village, the community''s emergency sirens began going off in all directions. The sound alone began bursting any eardrum in miles. Pieces of debris were flying all over the place, narrowly missing women and children. A mass panic had begun throughout the tribe as everyone rushed themselves to safety. Screams of pain fluttered in the air like a broken record. War was coming and fair few survived a hell like it. "Bring me those bowls of water!" The brunette healer shouted in a rush of panic as she attempted to aid the fallen witches and all their injuries that came with them. For one person the job was nearly impossible, but her usual helper was mysteriously missing today. Smoke filled the air as the flames grew around the healer''s tent. The fire narrowly missed the tent and the people inside of it, leaving scorch marks around it in a perfect miracle circle. "Asha!" A voice shouted across the mass panic of people. A cloth dabbed in water, being put on top of a woman''s forehead. She had a scratch going across it, blood pouring from the cuts. A nasty gash that looked unfamiliar and painful. "Asha, your daughter is missing!" The red hair spoke as she came to stand in front of the healer. The woman with fair skin looked over, panic swirling in her brown eyes as she stared at Hestia. "Who saw her last?" "I did," came the strong voice of the young master. Alisa had long ago dubbed him ''Ace'' for his perfect archery skills. They spent a lot of time together growing up, making them almost something akin to friends. But even then, witches didn''t have things like friends. It was family in way that only recognised their own species, but the men and women weren''t held in the same regard either. An unbalanced world they had found themselves content in. Nobody was equal in this community, for the males were believed to be anointed by the gods themselves. Asha huffed, rolling her eyes as she mixed the herbs a little too roughly in annoyance. "You two," she murmured to herself. She did quietly hope though that he would choose her Alisa as his Witch Bride one day if they were spending so much time together. It would be an honour to her ancestors and the generation of healers. The Clan Leader hardly ever chose a bride from the lower rank of witches. They preferred someone of higher class which assured a powerful witch bride to birth a truly remarkable heir. Their traditions were simple but clear. Emerson shook her head, putting herbs down in an empty bowl. "They''re always getting in trouble," she whispered, a smirk peeking through her lips. Her dark-skin glowed with sweat as she broke the herbs into little pieces and then began mixing them together, slowly and calculatedly. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Pipe down, young girl," Asha said disapprovingly as she looked back at Ace. "Find her before we lose her," she instructed Ace with worry lacing her voice. In a second, Asha had taken the bowl of herbs off Emerson and then promptly began to feed them to the woman lying on the buffalo skin. After another moment, Asha began chanting quietly to herself. Nodding, Ace took off in a flash. With hope that he hadn''t just lost a friend to a foe, he begged his legs to run just that bit faster. The redhead followed closely behind, ready to fire spells to protect the young Aryan. After all, he was the next heir ¨C losing him would be a big problem for their clan. Ace hated the funny title secretly, but to the public he was the perfect dotting son and heir. The young master never missed a beat.
Behind enemy lines, hiding among the trees, lay a waiting predator. Almond-shaped, blue eyes calculating the enemy''s every move. The black birthmark forming sun rays, illuminated in the dark. A fighter by instinct ¨C A healer by birth. Every time a werewolf made a particularly louder noise than before she would jump between the trees. Shielding from the harsh rain, she used the leaves to conceal her presence. "Find the heir and kill him!" Just as the Alpha barked the order, Alisa was pulled from the trees and back to their home territory. "Are you mad, Alisa?" "No, Ace, I am perfectly fine," she huffed in response. "Is it so wrong of me to want to fight too?" A frown appeared on the fair-haired boy''s face. Purple eyes staring into blue with such sadness that it tugged on her heart strings ¨C if she were to have any that is. A weird emotion she hardly felt but when she did, it was always because of him. Witches found emotions to be wrong, that having an intimate relationship with someone was not done in their culture. Friendship counted as far too intimate for the likes of them, but Alisa loved pushing the rules just that little bit every time. "You never use your magic! You want to fight like a barbarian! It is not done, Alisa!" The brunette girl huffed, "You say everything I do isn''t done! I was blessed to be a fighter ¨C I was trying to fight for our village!" She screamed, glowing redder by the minute. "What were you doing, Ace?" Alisa spat the question at him as if it were a vile piece of fruit. "I told you not to call me that, it''s not right. And, well," He started and then faltered, trying to finish the all too puzzling question. Blue eyes began to roll as Alisa turned away, looking down at the river that ran south of the village. She saw her dirty complexion in the water, feeling ashamed at how she became an animal whenever someone threatened her home. Maybe Ace was right; something about her just wasn''t right inside. "I was...trying to find you. Uh, to make sure your mother knew you weren''t lost or uh, taken," he quickly responded, trying to cover the lid on the abundance of feelings he felt when he looked at the brunette beauty of fourteen. He was far too old for her and she was merely a healer of all people. His father expected someone of high class just like his own mother, Indira, was. There were just some rules even the next Leader had to abide by. "My mother? Ace, just be honest," she stated, turning back towards him, eyes boring into him with mild curiosity and frustration. "Why can''t we fight like they do? Like barbarians?" "Because...well, it''s just not done, okay?" "If we want to beat a predator, we must become one!" "I disagree with you." "Well, you''re not the Clan Leader yet. I can request a trial to have my opinions met," Alisa fired back, determined to protect her home at all costs. Even if it meant going behind her best friends back to keep him alive. She still hadn''t forgotten what they said out there. It was gnawing at her insides, begging to never be a reality. "He hardly ever bothers with the healers of all people," Ace responded, feeling torn as he brushed her off slightly. "And the notion of fighting an animal... like, well, an animal, is utter madness. My father would never go for it," continued the nineteen-year-old. A smirk appeared on her lips. "It''s because it''s the smart idea ¨C that''s why he''d entertain the notion of this barbaric madness," Alisa said with a nod, as if assured she would do what was best for this village. Even if it cost her the one thing a witch needs in order to survive; a soul. The redness began to ebb away, as she no longer glowed with anger and untapped magic. Her heart was no longer beating as erratically as before and she had calmed her breathing right down. "Just don''t leave me here to deliver unwelcome news to Asha! Your mother hates it when you''re disobedient!" Ace screamed after Alisa as she darted back through the trees to find their Clan Leader. Ace was already steps behind her in her haste. His life was more important than his lecture and she would just have to show them that. "Don''t worry Ace, remember; I''m protected by the gods!" With a mumble, Ace had put a protection spell upon her, hating her sassy ''I''m untouchable comments''. It had started when she was six and it hadn''t quite stopped since. Nobody would be able to see or hear her due to the spell until she declared her presence in front of his father. Someone that hell bent on an audience with the Leader, knew morsels of information Ace was yet to know. Something inside of him trusted her in ways that were foreign to their culture. 02 | Forbidden Fruits & Curses As the village was rebuilt over the span of a year, the witches had begun to believe in a time of peace again. Yet not all had laid the werewolf issue to rest - plotting in the shadows, awaiting another attack. Often, the beasts plagued Alisa''s mind and thoughts too, making it almost impossible to think about much else. Even when the day had ended and she had retired to her home tent with her mother. When the moon rose, it signified time to rest. Alisa''s soul was almost but restful. A good half of their clan had been wiped out not even twelve months ago, leaving everyone just that little bit more hostile about werewolves than ever before. Young had been taken ¨C and the mothers were forced to wait for the next Mating Month to fix their newfound population issue. Secretly, their hearts were breaking for the bad omen that had seemed to befall them all. Being a mother was a gift from the gods themselves, they would say. Yet accidentally losing your baby is seen as an almost curse from unhappy gods instead. The same was felt by the orphans who''s mother''s had been taken before being able to learn how to function properly in their society. It was as if the clan had been split in two, constantly repairing their spell on the village while the rest attempted to navigate their new normal. Some tents still laid upon grass that had withered away, yet bit by bit it was growing back slowly just like they were. Alisa often wondered if she was different from the others, for a few reasons; firstly, she had felt the wave of grief as if it hit her like a magic ball unlike everyone else who seemed content on burying the battle as if it never happened at all. For she knew her role like the back of her hand, but she didn''t feel as if she fit it the same way it fit her. Through the course of fourteen years, she had only learned how to heal physical wounds but the magical ones still evaded her. Always learning, still trying to make a life work that didn''t feel quite like her own. On days off, which were most days after the battle, Alisa would sit by the river on the south side with her dearest friend, Hestia. The young girl would talk about new strategies she had forming in her mind with eyes alight with passion while Hestia ranted on about why being a fighter had its downsides too. The redhead hated that her mother was the General, who oversaw the witch warriors, and she never let Hestia forget it. Frequently she would express her concerns of the overbearing pressure and Alisa would be right there to support her. "Don''t you ever wonder who our dads are?" Alisa asked suddenly one afternoon, as if it were dawning on her that this could be her missing piece. "No," Hestia replied swiftly. "Men aren''t really needed here. You know that. Only the Clan Leader and the heir are anointed by the gods themselves. We cannot screw that up," the redhead spoke with such confidence, as if she knew why their society was the way it was. Like a robot that never skips a beat. Content with what she was told to believe as truth. Yet with Alisa in tow, Hestia loved to read the caves when the tide was out; the walls detailing the history of their people. It fascinated her in ways she had never known before. The girl had big dreams but she had only ever shared them with Alisa - a forbidden desire to be a teacher and not a warrior, unlike her mother. It was a dream she kept close to her heart. They were like two sides of a coin - Alisa dreaming of being a fighter whereas the other dreams of knowledge. It was as if they were just two kids on the wrong destined paths. Hestia was just shy of seventeen, nearing her eightieth birthday when her magic came in at its fullest and things were about to change for the both of them. The last year before becoming a full witch was when all the essential and special spells would be learned by heart, in preparation for the future Great War that they were training for. A war Alisa wondered about whether it was not coming, but that it had already arrived. An eighteenth birthday was a special day for a witch ¨C an unforgettable moment between them and the gods. "But isn''t that where half our personality comes from?" Alisa asked with curiosity, pressing the matter with more concern. "No. Our personality comes from our mother and the gods," the seventeen year old answered with a soft nod. With a roll of her eyes, Alisa threw a pebble across the river, watching as it skipped across the water. "Why do you only ask the most contentious questions when you''re in the presence of one of us?" Came the curious voice of Ace as he walked towards them with a smirk as he shook his head. The brunette shrugged in response as she continued to stare out at the water with a small gnawing feeling in her stomach, like a beast waiting to pounce. "She knows if she were to say it anywhere else, everybody would stop coming to her for advice about their issues and instead think she was barmy," Hestia chastened, shaking her head at someone she could almost call an acquaintance. The older girl would never dare to utter the intimacy of the word ''friend'', for it was forbidden. Yet if she stared long enough, Alisa would indeed be someone she found made her day more enjoyable. "Hey, I give great advice," the younger girl interrupted with a pout. "The mere notions behind them, however," commented the young man as he sat down beside Hestia. Alisa smiled softly before coming to sit down on the other side of Ace and then he lightly yet barely brushed his fingers across hers. A small blush crept up on both of their cheeks. Skin contact must be discreet and subtle or bare the wrath of the gods. As the days went by, the more Ace felt a need to be near Alisa, to understand her, and to laugh in ways he never had before. She brought a strange light to his otherwise dark world. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. An introduction of friendship and strange feelings to the young prince that he had surely lacked before. Every time he remembered he''d have to wait many years before he could make Alisa his bride deeply saddened him. Ace had to find a way to show his father that she would be a perfect choice. At fifteen, she was still as radiant as the moon itself. He knew her beauty could only grow from here. Their ways of life may be a bit outdated, but it had worked for generations, it couldn''t be changed now. Not even for the beauty, Alisa. "It''s time for the moon to shine and for you to retire to your tent," Ace instructed, knowing she would protest as usual, hoping to see the moon at its fullest once more. When they weren''t paying tribute to the gods, thrice a year, they would retire to their tents before the moon was high in the sky. Alisa often disobeyed on full moons that weren''t dedicated for tribute. She loved to stare at the moon and the stars, feeling connected somehow. As if the gods themselves smiled down upon her. "Just this once, Ace," she murmured, brushing her fingers across his now, in an attempt to convince him to let her, "Let''s watch the moon together and hear the gods sing." His copper-skinned fingers, curling around hers slightly as he whispered, "Just this once for it is a beautiful melody." As the moon rose high in the sky and Alisa began falling asleep, and her head fell across his shoulder. Chills went up his spine as they touched. This was the most intimate they had ever gotten in the fifteen years he''d known Alisa in Naporia. He lived for quiet and simple moments like this. Her small frame fit nicely molded on his shoulder. Something about it felt right, yet he knew it to be wrong. The three of them swore to keep their antics a secret from their mothers and the Clan Leader. It was the only way they could sneak some of these few peaceful moments in their otherwise rigid lives. Their lives had been mapped out before them, and neither was quite content with that. Each longing for a new path and somehow, always denied. While the older two hardly ever verbalised these doubts they held inside, Alisa instead consistently did it for them. Always eyes bright with wonder and life, questioning all things in her quest for the truth. Ace secretly adored the revolutionary spirit that she held, even at such a young age. She had been born to stand out as a star among them, and yet she seemed so curious with life outside of their boarders. It was as if she was trying to tell them that a piece of herself was missing but Ace only desired to fill the hole for her instead of helping her search for the missing pieces. Perhaps one day becoming his Witch Bride could be the highest honour the gods were expecting. For the three of them could be the generation of witches that could shift this world in their own light and change what was into what will be. Each of their sparks helped ignite the others'' passion for more. ''Why else was she sent to us for? If not to help us blossom into the next generation?'' As the thought occurred to Ace, his eyes shifted down to look at her sleeping form. She looked even more gorgeous in the moonlight as if she illuminated its beauty back at him. Suddenly, as if pain occurred in all places of her body, Alisa lurched backwards and began screaming in pain. She rolled over, laying on the ground, mumbling incoherently. Ace sprang into action, mouthing out spells that could ease her pain and end her suffering. Anything to make her okay again. But nothing seemed to be helping. Panic struck inside of his bones as his eyes never left her body. "Lisa?" Ace asked in panic, his purple eyes darting back and forth. He absentmindedly wondered if letting her stay up late was what had disastrous consequences. None of the advanced spells seemed to work either ¨C it was as if her pain was magic itself. Hestia held her arms up and shot out red sparks into the heavy night air, to alert all those around that they had a code red. A code they hadn''t had in twelve months: danger. Something was wrong with a member of the clan. Red sparks flew into the air, darting across, reaching all the tents and stopping right in front of aged and calculated purple eyes. Before Hestia knew it, the witch warriors and the Clan Leader had assembled beside the river, assessing the damage. Stern looks upon each of their faces as nobody was pleased to find them there. To disobey curfew was a punishable crime. Asha, their most skilled healer, had already gotten some herbs ready, praying to the gods in mere mutters for her daughter''s soul as she approached. Glowing red once more, Alisa tossed and turned making it near impossible for anybody to get close. Something about the red glow seemed far too familiar to Ace. As the redness ebbed away, the sounds of flesh and bones began cracking. Alisa''s agonising cries began filling the air once more. "Are the gods punishing us?" The Clan Leader asked in a shout, glaring at his sole heir, expecting answers. "What have you done, boy? I told you spending too much time with the Gift would anger the gods!" "I didn''t mean to do anything to her!" Ace argued back with such urgency as his eyes clouded over with emotion. His eyes fluttered back to her and her pain gnawed a hole inside of him. "All we were doing was watching the moon!" He turned back to defend himself to his father, stumbling to make sense of what was happening in the moment. "You know that is forbidden," scolded his father in a deep and bitter authoritarian voice as he glared back at his disobedient son. He left little to no room for Ace to argue. "She is not a prize," Lakshita murmured after a few moments of silence, shaking her head with disapproval. "She is still a child. Far too young for your madness. She may have been a gift, but the gods would never take such a gift back that was full of life and soul." "She is my daughter too before she is your gift," Asha muttered to herself, eyes cast down as she silently prayed. The Clan Leader fumbled for a moment, unsure what to do before he bellowed loudly, "Pay tribute now. Before they take an innocent soul for his mistake!" At once a bunch of witches dropped to their knees in a circle around the young child, mumbling out chants in between breaths. Mere prayers that their gift would be spared and returned back to them. Ace''s purple eyes dropped as a frown settled upon his pink lips. He would never cause harm to Alisa intentionally. A feeling of dread surrounded the pit of his belly, making himself feel unusually sick. As if on cue, the dancing rituals began again, surrounding the fifteen-year-old girl. She was as much a part of this clan as anybody. She was adored by many fellow witches, knowing their healing would be in great hands one day. A helper to all. The moon began shining on Alisa''s body, illuminating her tanned skin. She crouched up in a crawl position with her head down, breathing heavily between the grunts of pain. There was a struggle to take in air as she panicked. Her heart beat faster than she''d ever felt before. A literal heart attack pounding away in her little, fragile rib-cage. All eyes were on her as the chanting suddenly stopped. There was no longer a girl amidst the tribute circle, but a wolf in her place instead. The beast looked utterly terrified and shaking with sweat, blood and tears. "She is a cursed gift indeed," Lakshita murmured to herself, shaking her head in disappointment. The Gods had returned their gift. She had such big plans and hopes for young Alisa. The gods had blessed her, but perhaps, they had made a mistake. A fatal one. "What the hell is that?" "A were-witch?" "A hybrid, get it out of here!" The Witch King barked his order atop the many screams, as his warriors chanted a spell to teleport it elsewhere. Anywhere but here, was the silent order. "No!" Ace''s agony-stricken cries were all that filled the air after the spell was done and Asha silently wept for her lost child. "After some time, I shall take back the gift of magic from her frail human bones. That is a promise I make to you all and our gods!" The shock of the promise shattered not only Asha''s heart but Ace''s too.