Chapter 1 I’m a sin
\[Vayra's POV\]
The words on the page pulled me in like a dream I wasn’t sure I wanted to wake from.
“Dragons once ruled the skies, born of celestial fire and crowned by the gods. They soared above all things — proud, eternal — while wolves crept below, cursed by the moon and shaped by wild, untamed magic.”
I could almost see it — silver wings casting shadows over forests, golden eyes looking down on creatures they believed beneath them. My heart beat faster as I read. It wasn’t just a story. It felt like memory. Like something my blood had already lived.
“But under the Blood Moon, the wolves rose.”
The page was brittle under my fingers, the ink faded with age, but the power in the words was still sharp. They hunted dragons not out of spite, but hunger — for vengeance, for freedom… for their scales.
“Dragon scales held immortal essence — a magic that could be stolen, consumed, made one’s own.”
The great war that followed shattered the world. Whole mountains burned. Oceans boiled. For a hundred years, dragons and wolves tore each other apart, until both sides were dying faster than they could fight. That’s when the Pact was made.
“A truce forged in blood and fear. Bound by a sacred law: No union between dragon and wolf shall ever be allowed.”
My breath caught. I didn’t need the book to tell me what happened next. I already knew — deep in the marrow of my bones. Someone broke that law. A dragon and a wolf chose each other. Chose love over war. My parents.
And I was the proof. The consequence. The forbidden child of flame and fang. My hands trembled as I closed the book, heart pounding against a truth I wasn’t ready for.
The clouds thundered louder than the roar of the crowd outside my house, as a few people dragged me out. They pulled me through the wet mud of the street, past the broken storefronts where once stood shops and restaurants, now empty shells. Their voices buzzed loud enough to make my head spin.
They called me names, some I recognized, others I hadn't heard since childhood. Some even blamed me for this disaster, calling me a monster because I'd been born of dragons and werewolves.
They forced my head back against someone’s shoulder and shoved a rag in my mouth. I coughed until my chest heaved with each swallow and my vision swam with the tears I refused to let fall.
I bit into the cloth, tasting blood from a split lip. My mind whirled, the sound of shouting echoing in my ears. There were too many people pushing me, shoving, dragging me along. Too much movement and noise around me. All I could focus on was trying to breathe and ignore my racing pulse.
Everything around me seemed to blur, fading to grey as I lost track of time.
“Keep walking! Move, damn you!” Someone shouted at me, then slammed my back against another hard surface. This one was softer, though, and less threatening. The ground underneath me swayed slightly. My head lolled from side to side as I fought sleep.
Someone was talking to me. It took more effort than usual to keep up with his fast speech, and my body protested, protesting against the rough treatment. I blinked sluggishly as he spoke again, voice getting clearer. I yanked the gag out of my mouth, gasping for air.
“What…” I croaked, struggling to get words out. “Why am I here?” It wasn’t a question; it was barely coherent. More like a whimper.
“Shut your mouth and walk faster,” came the sharp reply. A hand grasped my hair painfully, jerking my head back. I winced, feeling a trickle of blood roll down the back of my neck.
It’d probably be better to keep my mouth shut. But something about it bothered me. Something niggled at the back of my brain, urging me to stay awake. My vision was blurring again, but the sounds slowly returned, becoming distinct and clear once more.
My stomach flipped at the thought of what would happen if someone saw me with blood running down my neck. So I opened my mouth anyway, and managed to say, “ Tell me why I’m here.” The voice sounded so small, like my own tiny child’s.
“You have a debt of your parents to pay,” said the man, and I knew then that I was never going to get anywhere with him. “Now stop being stupid.”
The rain hasn’t stopped. Cold, stinging drops run down my face, washing away the blood, the tears, the dust of the stones they threw. I can taste the iron on my tongue — mine, theirs, the earth’s. It clings to my teeth like a memory I can't spit out.
They took me to the empty square — dragged, not led — and left me there like a broken offering. Only the echoes of their voices remain, carved into my skull, each jeer and shout etched deep like knives turned inward. The silence now is heavier than the noise was, thick with the weight of what was done.
“She’s a curse.”
“Her blood is dirty.”
“No dragon born of flame should carry the scent of wolves.”
Their words were knives, sharper than the rocks that split my skin — words meant to cut deeper, meant to linger.
I press a trembling hand to my ribs. It burns beneath my fingers, a dull fire wrapped in bruises. Every breath feels like swallowing glass, each inhale a fresh betrayal. My clothes cling wet to my body, heavy with mud, blood, and shame. The cold has settled into my bones.
“Mother?” My voice cracks, barely more than a whisper lost in the rain. “Are you there?”
Only the wind answers, tugging at my hair like a hand I used to know. My parents died long ago, and they hid me before the end. I grew up with a nanny in the shadow of the forest, far from the eyes of the world. The trees were my walls, the rivers my roads, and the stars my only witnesses. When I finally moved to the village, they told me it was my real home. But the earth never felt the same beneath my feet after the forest; it was harder, colder, always watching.
When the council called me before them, when the torches burned high and the crowd gathered like hungry wolves, she stayed inside. I saw her shadow behind the shutters, trembling. I wanted to believe she was protecting me — the way she always said she would.
But deep down, I know the truth. She’s protecting herself — from me. Because I’m not just a daughter.
I’m a sin.