Chapter 78 Press Conference (Vivienne POV)
One week after the battle, I stood backstage at a BBC studio in London, trying to remember how to breathe.
"You don't have to do this," Gabriel said for the fifteenth time. "We could release a written statement. Let someone else speak for werewolves. You've already done enough."
"Someone has to be first," I said. "Someone has to stand in front of cameras and prove werewolves are people, not monsters. Might as well be me."
"You're seventeen."
"I'm the Silvermane who commanded seven packs. I'm Edmund Ashford's daughter. I'm the bridge the prophecy talked about." I adjusted my collar… professional button-down shirt, deliberately chosen to look non-threatening, completely human. "Like it or not, I'm the face of this movement."
Declan appeared, moving carefully. His injuries from silver poisoning had healed significantly over the past week, but he was still weaker than normal. "Five minutes until broadcast. Half a billion people are expected to watch globally. No pressure."
"So much pressure," I corrected. "All the pressure. Every single pressure that exists."
"You'll be fine. You united hostile packs under supernatural compulsion during active combat. A press conference should be easy by comparison."
"At least during combat I could force people to obey through genetic imperative. Can't exactly command humanity to accept werewolves through Silvermane authority."
"No, but you can appeal to their better nature. Remind them we're people. Show them what your father became at the end… that even the architect of genocide could change when confronted with truth."
Sophie emerged from the studio floor, her camera equipment configured for backup recording. "They're ready for you. Packed house… every major network is carrying the feed. Social media is exploding. This is the biggest broadcast since... I don't even know. Maybe moon landing levels of viewership."
"Great. No pressure at all."
"You've got this." Sophie squeezed my shoulder. "Just be honest. Tell your story. Let the world see who you really are."
A production assistant appeared. "Ms. Ashford? We're ready when you are."
I followed her through corridors that felt simultaneously too long and too short. Gabriel and Declan came with me as far as the studio entrance, then stopped.
"We'll be watching," Gabriel said. "Right here. If you need anything… "
"I know." I hugged him quickly. "Thank you. For being here. For believing I can do this."
"You united seven packs. You can handle one press conference."
I stepped onto the studio floor.
The setup was deliberately simple… a single chair, a neutral backdrop, professional lighting designed to look conversational rather than interrogational. The host was Sarah Chen, BBC journalist known for fairness and thorough research. She'd interviewed war criminals and heads of state with equal composure.
Now she was interviewing a werewolf.
"Ms. Ashford," Sarah said as I sat down. "Thank you for agreeing to this interview."
"Thank you for having me."
"Before we begin, I need to ask: are you comfortable with me addressing the nature of what you are? Some of our viewers may not have seen the footage from Blackthorn Academy."
"I'm a werewolf," I said clearly, looking directly at the camera. "Seventeen years old. Born to Lyanna Silvermane and Edmund Ashford. I transform under the full moon. I have enhanced strength, speed, and senses. And I'm still human. Still a person with thoughts, feelings, family, hopes for the future. Being werewolf doesn't erase my humanity… it adds to it."
Sarah nodded. "Then let's begin. The world watched footage of the battle at Blackthorn Academy one week ago. Forty-seven werewolves dead. Twenty-three hunters dead. Your father, Edmund Ashford, died saving the people he'd spent eighteen years trying to eliminate. Can you tell us what happened that night?"
I took a breath. This was it. The moment where I either built a bridge or watched everything collapse.
"My father was a hunter," I began. "He dedicated his life to eliminating werewolves because he believed we were threats to humanity. When I was born, my mother… Lyanna Silvermane… began transforming during labor. My father interpreted this as an attack. He shot her. Killed her while she was actually trying to protect me from the silver in his weapons."
I paused, making sure I had composure before continuing.
"My father spent the next eighteen years suppressing what I was. Silver injections that poisoned my system. Magical spells that prevented transformation. Complete isolation to ensure I never learned about my werewolf heritage. He thought he was protecting me. He was actually torturing me."
Sarah's expression was carefully neutral. "You were raised by the man who murdered your mother and tortured you for eighteen years. Yet you're sitting here speaking about him with remarkable composure. How?"
"Because I understand now what drove him. Fear. Grief. Misunderstanding. He genuinely believed werewolves were monsters. Believed that suppressing my transformation was saving me from becoming a threat." I looked directly at the camera. "He was wrong. But his wrongness came from ignorance, not malice. That doesn't excuse what he did. But it makes it comprehensible."
"Your father built the facility at Blackthorn Academy specifically to eliminate werewolves during a tournament called The Culling. The trap was elaborate… sealed exits, UV lights, silver gas, flooding systems. Seventy people died. Can you walk us through what happened?"
I described the battle. The Silver Moon's influence. The trap activating. The moment I'd used Silvermane authority to command seven packs simultaneously, uniting enemies under genetic imperative that overrode territorial instincts.
Sarah interrupted. "You commanded hundreds of werewolves to obey you through... genetic compulsion? That sounds like mind control."
"It is, in a sense. The Silvermane bloodline carries authority that other werewolves can't resist during crisis. It's designed to unite packs when existential threats require cooperation." I met her eyes. "I won't pretend it's not concerning. Having the ability to override free will is terrifying. But that night, it saved lives. Wolves who would've killed each other instead worked together. Enemies carried each other's wounded. The compulsion created cooperation that couldn't have formed otherwise."
"Some viewers might argue that ability makes you dangerous. That someone who can control others through supernatural means is exactly the threat your father believed werewolves to be."
"They'd be right to worry," I acknowledged. "Power without accountability is dangerous regardless of species. That's why I'm here… submitting to public scrutiny, answering questions, demonstrating that werewolves can be integrated into society with transparency and oversight rather than hunted in secret."
Sarah consulted her notes. "Your father died during the battle. Can you tell us about his final moments?"
This was the hard part. The moment where I had to explain forced transformation and redemption and the complicated truth that Edmund had been both monster and hero.
"When the main trap failed, my father activated a failsafe… concentrated silver gas designed to kill everyone within a quarter-mile radius. He aborted the main deployment, but the failsafe required manual shutdown from inside a sealed chamber filling with poison. Human exposure would kill in ten seconds. Standard werewolf healing might last thirty seconds. Neither was long enough to reach the controls."
I paused, gathering courage.
"I forced his transformation. Used Silvermane authority to turn my father into a werewolf against his will. It was agonizing… bones breaking, body restructuring, consciousness fragmenting. But it gave him the healing factor necessary to survive long enough to disable the failsafe."
Sarah's expression showed carefully controlled shock. "You transformed your father without his consent?"
"With his consent," I corrected. "He agreed. Knew what it would cost. Chose to become the thing he'd spent eighteen years hunting in order to save the people he'd tried to murder." My voice cracked. "The silver concentration was too high. Even with werewolf healing, the poison killed him. But he lived long enough to disable the system. Long enough to save everyone. Long enough to understand what my mother was, what I am, what we've always been… people who transform under the moon, not monsters who deserve elimination."
"What were his final words?"
"He spoke in the ancient tongue… the language werewolves use for commands and important declarations. He apologized to my mother. Acknowledged he understood now. Asked me to protect my children… his grandchildren, if I ever have them. " Tears were streaming down my face now, uncontrolled. "He spent eighteen years being wrong and five minutes being right. That doesn't balance the scales. Doesn't redeem the harm. But it's still five minutes more than we expected from him."
Sarah gave me a moment to compose myself. When I nodded that I was ready, she continued.
"You've united seven werewolf packs under what you call Silvermane authority. You've demonstrated the ability to command through supernatural compulsion. You've forced transformation on your father. Some viewers will see you as exactly what Edmund Ashford claimed werewolves were… powerful, dangerous, needing to be controlled. How do you respond to that fear?"
I looked directly at the camera, speaking to the half-billion people watching worldwide.
"You're right to be afraid. Power without accountability is dangerous. I won't pretend being werewolf doesn't come with abilities that could harm humans. Supernatural strength, enhanced senses, the capacity to transform, the Silvermane authority that can compel obedience… all of it is real, all of it is concerning, all of it deserves scrutiny."
I leaned forward slightly.
"But fear isn't an excuse for genocide. Being different isn't justification for systematic elimination. Werewolves are people… we have families, communities, children who deserve to grow up without being hunted. We're not asking for special treatment. We're asking for basic rights. Legal recognition. Protection from hunters who operate outside any oversight. The ability to exist without threat of murder."
"What specifically are you asking for?" Sarah asked.
"Legal personhood for werewolves. Recognition that transformation doesn't revoke human rights. Protection laws that make hunting werewolves a crime. Oversight of supernatural affairs through transparent government agencies rather than secret hunter networks. Integration into society with accommodations for our needs… secure spaces during full moons, anti-discrimination employment laws, educational resources about werewolf biology."
I took a breath.
"I'm asking humanity to choose understanding over fear. To recognize that we're not threats needing elimination but people needing protection. To build bridges instead of burning them."
Sarah consulted her tablet. "We're getting questions from viewers watching the live feed. May I share some?"
"Please."
"From Maria in Barcelona: 'How do we know you won't use your Silvermane authority to control humans? What prevents you from compelling anyone who disagrees with you?'"
"Nothing prevents it," I said honestly. "Under the Silver Moon's influence, I could potentially compel humans as well as werewolves. That power exists and I won't lie about having it. But power and intent are different things. I'm choosing transparency, choosing accountability, choosing to submit to oversight rather than operating in secret. That's the difference between using authority to protect versus using it to dominate."
Another question. "From James in New York: 'My daughter is terrified after watching the battle footage. How do I explain that werewolves aren't monsters when we just watched them kill dozens of people?'"
"Tell her the truth," I said. "Werewolves defended themselves against hunters trying to commit genocide. We didn't start that battle… we survived it. Some of us killed to protect our families. Some hunters killed believing they were protecting humanity. Violence happened on both sides. But context matters. This wasn't werewolves attacking innocents. This was people fighting for their right to exist."
I looked at the camera, imagining James's daughter watching.
"I'm seventeen years old. I spend most of my time worrying about school and friends and whether my boyfriend notices when I wear my hair differently. I'm not a monster. I'm a teenager who transforms under the full moon. The violence you saw was me refusing to die quietly. I hope your daughter can understand that difference."
The questions continued. Some hostile, some supportive, most somewhere in between. I answered each as honestly as I could… acknowledging legitimate concerns, pushing back against bigotry, finding balance between defending werewolves and admitting our existence complicated humanity's worldview.
Finally, Sarah asked the last question.
"Ms. Ashford, one week ago the supernatural world was secret. Now it's exposed. Half a billion people are watching this interview. Governments are drafting legislation. Society is fundamentally changed. What do you hope happens next?"
I thought about Edmund's body in my lap, about his final words in the ancient tongue, about the prophecy that said Silvermane would either unite or burn.
"I hope we choose bridges over walls," I said slowly. "I hope humanity looks at werewolves and sees people with differences rather than threats needing elimination. I hope we build systems that protect everyone… human and supernatural… instead of systems that hunt one species to extinction."
I paused.
"But I'm realistic. Fear doesn't disappear overnight. Centuries of supernatural secrecy created mythology that portrayed us as monsters. One press conference won't undo that. There will be discrimination. Violence. Laws that treat us as lesser. People who want werewolves controlled, contained, or eliminated."
I looked directly at the camera one final time.
"To those people, I say: we're not going back into hiding. We're not accepting second-class status. We're not dying quietly to make you comfortable. We're people. We deserve rights. And we'll fight for them… not with violence, not with domination, but with persistence, transparency, and the stubborn refusal to be erased."
I stood, the interview clearly concluding.
"Thank you for listening. Thank you for considering that maybe… just maybe… your fear of the unknown is more dangerous than the werewolves you fear. And thank you to every human who chooses bridge-building over wall-building. We need allies. We need understanding. We need a world where my father's final transformation… from hunter to werewolf, from hatred to sacrifice… becomes possible for everyone."
The studio was silent for a moment. Then Sarah stood, extending her hand.
"Thank you, Ms. Ashford. That was... extraordinary."
I shook her hand. "Was it enough?"
"I don't know. But it was honest. And sometimes honest is all we have."
Backstage, Gabriel and Declan were waiting. Both of them looked emotional… Gabriel crying openly, Declan trying and failing to maintain composure.
"You did it," Gabriel said, pulling me into a hug. "You told our story. Made us human. Made people see what Dad became at the end."
"Did I do enough?"
"Nobody knows. But you gave werewolves a voice. That's more than we had a week ago."
Sophie appeared, checking her phone. "Initial reactions are mixed. Lots of support, WerewolvesArePeople is trending. But also backlash… fear, anger, calls for legislation controlling supernatural abilities. The conversation is polarized but it's happening. People are talking instead of just hunting."
"Is that victory?" I asked.
"It's progress. Which is close enough to victory for government work."
We emerged from the BBC building into December cold. Protesters were already gathered… some holding signs supporting werewolf rights (SILVERMANE SAVED LIVES, SUPERNATURAL = HUMAN RIGHTS), others demanding control (COMPULSION = SLAVERY, REGISTER ALL WEREWOLVES, EDMUND WAS RIGHT).
The bridge was forming. Fragile, contested, requiring constant maintenance.
But real.
I'd stood before half a billion people and told the truth about werewolves, about my father, about the complicated reality that people could be both terrible and capable of change.
Some would accept it. Others would reject it. Most would land somewhere in the middle, uncertain and afraid but willing to consider that maybe their fear wasn't justified.