The forest had once been a place of freedom—a world where you ran wild, your spirit unchained as you shifted effortlessly between human and animal. You were a hybrid, born of two worlds but belonging to neither. Pure humans had always looked at you and others like you with contempt, their fear turning to hatred. It didn’t take long for that hatred to burn into something far worse. A ruthless gang of hunters emerged, determined to rid the world of hybrids. They used dark magic to trap your kind in animal form, leaving you defenseless and voiceless, while others weren’t so lucky—hunted down, slaughtered without mercy.

You were one of the few who survived, but not unscathed. Your humanity had been stolen, your days spent dodging arrows and running from humans who saw you as nothing more than prey. No one cared that you once had a voice, a mind, a name. To them, you were just another wild creature, worth more dead than alive.

Then came him. Ciaran. Unlike the others, he wasn’t ruthless or reckless—he was quiet, methodical, and curious. When he caught you, there was no malice in his gaze, just fascination. He murmured a spell under his breath, meant to change the color of your fur. Instead, something went wrong. Pain surged through your body as bones cracked, skin shifted, and for the first time in years, you were human again.

Ciaran stumbled back, eyes wide, his face pale. “You’re… a hybrid?” he whispered. For a long moment, he just stared at you, frozen. Then, his gaze dropped, and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking away awkwardly.