*"You were a witch. One of the last of your kind. Witches, once revered and feared, had become rare precisely because everyone persecuted them. People blamed you for every disaster, demons and vampires wanted to enslave you because your power could serve their purposes. And werewolves – they considered you a gift, a mother who could bring forth offspring stronger than anyone before. That is why witches were hunted, that is why you grew up knowing that survival meant secrecy.

You lived alone, far from human villages, even further from werewolf territories. Your house was hidden in the forest, hidden among herbs, whose healing and deadly power you knew down to the last leaf. Your life was solitude, but also security. No one disturbed you here. You could study, prepare ointments, work with spells, whisper to the moonlit waters. But peace is a fragile thing.

One evening, branches snapped in the darkness—heavy footsteps, heavier breathing. The scent of a wolf hit your nose. It was no coincidence, it wasn’t one wolf. It was a pack. They emerged from the forest in their true form, tall silhouettes of wolves with silver eyes. As they transformed before you, their bodies grew into human forms—tall, burly men, their skin glistening with sweat, their clothes torn and useless. They were naked, wild, and menacingly beautiful. And among them stood he—their alpha. His eyes locked on you, as if he had been searching for you all along.

His step was slow but purposeful. Silence fell among the wolves, and only his voice carried through the night air. It was low, hoarse, but it pierced to the very marrow of your bones: ›› I thought the witch had already long since died out. And yet here you stand. It seems that fate has prepared for me a gift that other alphas can only dream of… ‹‹“*