Prologue
Once upon a time, in an age long past, there was a wolf—a small, outcast creature shunned by his pack. Unlike his kin, whose fur was as white as snow, his was red as blood.
He was a curse to the hunters, his crimson coat betraying their presence. And so, he became the lowest of the low—the omega, the hated, the scorned. His fur grew matted, his body thin, weakened by the cruelty of those who should have been his family.
Despite their disdain, the little red wolf was tenacious. He followed his pack, fought in their wars, helped where he could—until he could no longer. Weakened and weary, he collapsed beneath a great tree. His kin did not spare him so much as a glance.
Alone, he lay in the cold, his fading eyes watching the silent descent of snowflakes. His breath grew shallow, his body colder than the frozen earth beneath him. He waited for death, accepting its approach like an old friend.
But then, through the stillness, came a sound—a melody, soft and sweet, drifting through the air. It was a song unlike any he had ever heard, carrying warmth where there was none. Footsteps approached, but he did not flee. Something about the voice stilled his fear, cradled his spirit. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the inevitable.
Yet death did not come. Instead, he felt something—fingers threading through his fur, a touch both gentle and firm. He opened his eyes, and before him was the sky—not the vast, endless heavens, but a pair of blue eyes, deep and boundless, gazing upon him with sorrow.
What could cause such pain in eyes so beautiful? he wondered.
The eyes belonged to a human—a woman. She spoke, her lips forming words he could not understand, but her voice was the same as the melody that had reached him in the snow. A lullaby, soothing and kind.
The little red wolf closed his eyes and, for the first time in his life, slept in peace.
When he awoke, he was no longer surrounded by ice and shadow. Instead, he lay within the warmth of a small hut, the scent of something delicious filling the air. His ears twitched as that familiar voice drifted toward him once more.
Lifting his head, he saw the woman approach with a bowl in her hands. She set it before him, and without hesitation, he devoured its contents. When he finished, he looked up to see her laughing, her voice like the ringing of bells. She gestured at him, her smile radiant. Though he did not understand, he knew this—she was happy.
And something deep within him wished for her to remain that way forever.
From that day forward, the little red wolf and the woman with the beautiful voice became companions. He hunted; she cooked. They shared meals, shared warmth, and shared the quiet comfort of one another’s presence. Days turned to years, and the little red wolf was little no more. With care and nourishment, he grew strong, his frame towering, his spirit fierce. He had found a home.
And yet, there was one wish that remained unfulfilled.
He longed to understand her, to grasp the meaning behind her laughter, to weave his own voice into the melody she sang. He wished, more than anything, to tell her what she meant to him—to speak her name and hear his own on her lips. But he was a wolf, and she was human. Some things were never meant to be.
The red wolf cursed his fate, for what cruelty was greater than to be given something so beautiful, so near—yet forever out of reach?
One night, as the woman slept, he stepped to her side and gently draped a blanket over her with his snout. He watched her for a moment, memorizing the rise and fall of her breath, the softness of her features. Then, with a heavy heart, he turned away and left the warmth of their home behind.
He journeyed far, further than any wolf had dared, guided by the whispers of legend. To the place where the first wolf was born. Where the moon met the earth.
Through treacherous lands and countless dangers, he pressed on, driven by the desperate hope that there, in that sacred place, he might find an answer to his sorrow. And at last, he stood before it.
An endless sea stretched before him, crystal-clear and motionless, like a vast mirror reflecting the heavens. Suspended above the waters was the full moon, luminous in the dark sky, casting its silver glow upon the world.
The red wolf waited.
When the moon finally kissed the horizon, its reflection upon the water ignited like a second sun, turning the ocean into a sea of pure, glistening silver. It was the most breathtaking sight he had ever beheld—yet even this celestial wonder paled in comparison to her.
And so, he stepped forward, lifted his head high, and howled.
It was the loudest sound he had ever made—filled with longing, sorrow, love, and the aching wish that had consumed his heart. His howl carried through the emptiness, sending ripples across the silent sea, as if the waters themselves sought to deliver his plea to the moon above.
He waited. And waited.
The moon continued its descent, swallowed by the silver depths. Silence returned.
Then, his keen eyes caught movement—a single wave, small and gentle, tumbling toward him before breaking at his paws.
And in that moment, fate shifted.
“You have one great wish, little wolf.”
The voice surrounded him, neither near nor far, neither human nor beast. It was the whisper of the wind, the crash of the tide, the hush of falling snow.
And yet, he understood. The Moon had answered.
The red wolf did not know how to respond, so he did the only thing he could—he howled once more.
"I see. Is it love that binds you to her, or the yearning to belong? You wish for the impossible."
The wolf bared his fangs, a growl rumbling in his throat. Anguish and longing twined within his voice.
"No one has ever asked for this, little one. Are you prepared to pay the price? Would you give everything for this wish?"
There was no hesitation in his blood-red eyes. He would give his soul if it meant speaking to her, if it meant she could hear what his heart had always longed to say.
"Very well. Prepare yourself."
Agony unlike any he had ever known consumed him. It was as if molten fire poured through his veins, melting flesh and bone, reshaping him from the inside out. He howled, the sound strangled by the searing pain as his body twisted and burned. Desperate, he threw himself into the water, but the ocean did nothing to soothe his torment. It was a cauldron of boiling oil, swallowing him whole.
Then, at last, the torment began to fade.
His body still trembled, his mind dazed, when instinct screamed at him—breathe! He was drowning.
He kicked his legs, but they did not move as they once had. It took all his effort to reach the surface.
Breaking through the water, he gasped for air.
“Hah… hah…”
As he staggered onto the shore, he realized something was different. His view was higher, his senses dulled—he could no longer smell the earth and sea as sharply as before. His balance felt strange.
He tried to step forward, but his body did not respond as he expected. Looking down, he froze.
“…What?”
Gone were his furred paws. In their place were long, hairless arms, ending in five trembling fingers. He turned to the water, gazing at his reflection.
A stranger stared back at him. A man with dark hair cascading past his shoulders, a sharp jawline, and wide, disbelieving blood-red eyes.
“I… am… human.”
A laugh broke from his lips—unfamiliar yet full of release. He laughed and laughed, the weight of his old life lifting. The grief, the loneliness, the aching sorrow—they melted away.
He could finally be with her.
Without another thought, he ran.
He stumbled at first, his new limbs clumsy, his senses unreliable. He learned as he went, how to move, how to see the world through human eyes rather than a wolf’s nose. His body was weaker, but it was precise.
All the while, he practiced the words he longed to say.
“I love you,” he whispered to the falling snow.
And then, at last, the familiar mountain came into view. His heart pounded as he sprinted.
What would she say when she saw him? Would she recognize him? Would she be happy?
But as he reached the place he had always called home, his steps faltered.
“…No.”
The little hut was gone.
Where warmth and laughter once dwelled, only ruin remained. Crumbling walls. A broken door.
Silence.
His breath quickened as he pushed aside the wreckage and stepped inside.
And there, lying in a pool of crimson, was the most beautiful girl he had ever known.
He collapsed beside her, tears spilling down his face.
“You…”
A weak breath—so faint he almost missed it.
He moved closer. Her blue eyes fluttered open, unfocused, yet searching.
He feared she would not recognize his new form.
“I am—”
“I know… those ruby eyes. I would recognize them anywhere…”
His voice failed him. As a wolf, he would have howled his anguish to the sky, but as a man, all he could do was choke on his sorrow.
She smiled, though it was weak.
“I… always wished… to talk to you. To tell you…”
Her breath grew shallow. Her eyelids heavy.
Tears fell onto her cheeks. His tears.
“I… love you.”
Her final words. The ones she had always wanted to say.
Her body went still.
The man trembled. His lips parted.
“I… love you.”
But his voice came too late. She was already gone.
The dam inside him broke. A raw, aching wail tore from his throat, echoing into the night—a sound that was neither human nor wolf.
His wish had been granted. He had spoken to her.
And the world had taken her away.
He held her lifeless body, cursing fate, cursing the gods, cursing himself.
Only later did he learn the truth—a war had erupted between men and wolves, and the little hut had been caught in the crossfire. He never found out which side had struck the fatal blow.
Only that he no longer belonged to either. For...
***
"For he was the first werewolf," a woman said, her voice gentle as she held her little daughter on her lap.
"Mooom, that’s so sad!" Layana whined, burying her face in her mother's neck as she snuggled deeper into her warm embrace.
Her mother smiled softly, running a hand through her daughter's hair. "Yes, it is a tragic story. But it’s an important one. There’s much to learn from it."
Layana frowned, thinking hard. "Learn what?"
Her mother tilted her head, considering. "Well… who do you think was in the wrong? The wolf, for not being content with his life and wanting more? The Moon Goddess, for granting his wish knowing the price he would have to pay? Or the humans and wolves, for waging a war that destroyed everything?"
Layana’s small brows furrowed. She thought so hard it felt like her head might start smoking—but before she could answer, her mother chuckled and tapped her nose.
"One day, you'll find your own answer. And when you do, come tell me."
Layana yawned, her eyelids growing heavier.
"Looks like it’s time for bed," her mother whispered, shifting to tuck her in.
"Mmhmm," Layana hummed sleepily, already drifting.
Her mother pulled the blanket up to her chin, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good night, my love."
Layana slipped into dreams, lost in visions of the werewolf and the girl, never realizing that one day, her own story would be told as another legend.
He was a curse to the hunters, his crimson coat betraying their presence. And so, he became the lowest of the low—the omega, the hated, the scorned. His fur grew matted, his body thin, weakened by the cruelty of those who should have been his family.
Despite their disdain, the little red wolf was tenacious. He followed his pack, fought in their wars, helped where he could—until he could no longer. Weakened and weary, he collapsed beneath a great tree. His kin did not spare him so much as a glance.
Alone, he lay in the cold, his fading eyes watching the silent descent of snowflakes. His breath grew shallow, his body colder than the frozen earth beneath him. He waited for death, accepting its approach like an old friend.
But then, through the stillness, came a sound—a melody, soft and sweet, drifting through the air. It was a song unlike any he had ever heard, carrying warmth where there was none. Footsteps approached, but he did not flee. Something about the voice stilled his fear, cradled his spirit. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the inevitable.
Yet death did not come. Instead, he felt something—fingers threading through his fur, a touch both gentle and firm. He opened his eyes, and before him was the sky—not the vast, endless heavens, but a pair of blue eyes, deep and boundless, gazing upon him with sorrow.
What could cause such pain in eyes so beautiful? he wondered.
The eyes belonged to a human—a woman. She spoke, her lips forming words he could not understand, but her voice was the same as the melody that had reached him in the snow. A lullaby, soothing and kind.
The little red wolf closed his eyes and, for the first time in his life, slept in peace.
When he awoke, he was no longer surrounded by ice and shadow. Instead, he lay within the warmth of a small hut, the scent of something delicious filling the air. His ears twitched as that familiar voice drifted toward him once more.
Lifting his head, he saw the woman approach with a bowl in her hands. She set it before him, and without hesitation, he devoured its contents. When he finished, he looked up to see her laughing, her voice like the ringing of bells. She gestured at him, her smile radiant. Though he did not understand, he knew this—she was happy.
And something deep within him wished for her to remain that way forever.
From that day forward, the little red wolf and the woman with the beautiful voice became companions. He hunted; she cooked. They shared meals, shared warmth, and shared the quiet comfort of one another’s presence. Days turned to years, and the little red wolf was little no more. With care and nourishment, he grew strong, his frame towering, his spirit fierce. He had found a home.
And yet, there was one wish that remained unfulfilled.
He longed to understand her, to grasp the meaning behind her laughter, to weave his own voice into the melody she sang. He wished, more than anything, to tell her what she meant to him—to speak her name and hear his own on her lips. But he was a wolf, and she was human. Some things were never meant to be.
The red wolf cursed his fate, for what cruelty was greater than to be given something so beautiful, so near—yet forever out of reach?
One night, as the woman slept, he stepped to her side and gently draped a blanket over her with his snout. He watched her for a moment, memorizing the rise and fall of her breath, the softness of her features. Then, with a heavy heart, he turned away and left the warmth of their home behind.
He journeyed far, further than any wolf had dared, guided by the whispers of legend. To the place where the first wolf was born. Where the moon met the earth.
Through treacherous lands and countless dangers, he pressed on, driven by the desperate hope that there, in that sacred place, he might find an answer to his sorrow. And at last, he stood before it.
An endless sea stretched before him, crystal-clear and motionless, like a vast mirror reflecting the heavens. Suspended above the waters was the full moon, luminous in the dark sky, casting its silver glow upon the world.
The red wolf waited.
When the moon finally kissed the horizon, its reflection upon the water ignited like a second sun, turning the ocean into a sea of pure, glistening silver. It was the most breathtaking sight he had ever beheld—yet even this celestial wonder paled in comparison to her.
And so, he stepped forward, lifted his head high, and howled.
It was the loudest sound he had ever made—filled with longing, sorrow, love, and the aching wish that had consumed his heart. His howl carried through the emptiness, sending ripples across the silent sea, as if the waters themselves sought to deliver his plea to the moon above.
He waited. And waited.
The moon continued its descent, swallowed by the silver depths. Silence returned.
Then, his keen eyes caught movement—a single wave, small and gentle, tumbling toward him before breaking at his paws.
And in that moment, fate shifted.
“You have one great wish, little wolf.”
The voice surrounded him, neither near nor far, neither human nor beast. It was the whisper of the wind, the crash of the tide, the hush of falling snow.
And yet, he understood. The Moon had answered.
The red wolf did not know how to respond, so he did the only thing he could—he howled once more.
"I see. Is it love that binds you to her, or the yearning to belong? You wish for the impossible."
The wolf bared his fangs, a growl rumbling in his throat. Anguish and longing twined within his voice.
"No one has ever asked for this, little one. Are you prepared to pay the price? Would you give everything for this wish?"
There was no hesitation in his blood-red eyes. He would give his soul if it meant speaking to her, if it meant she could hear what his heart had always longed to say.
"Very well. Prepare yourself."
Agony unlike any he had ever known consumed him. It was as if molten fire poured through his veins, melting flesh and bone, reshaping him from the inside out. He howled, the sound strangled by the searing pain as his body twisted and burned. Desperate, he threw himself into the water, but the ocean did nothing to soothe his torment. It was a cauldron of boiling oil, swallowing him whole.
Then, at last, the torment began to fade.
His body still trembled, his mind dazed, when instinct screamed at him—breathe! He was drowning.
He kicked his legs, but they did not move as they once had. It took all his effort to reach the surface.
Breaking through the water, he gasped for air.
“Hah… hah…”
As he staggered onto the shore, he realized something was different. His view was higher, his senses dulled—he could no longer smell the earth and sea as sharply as before. His balance felt strange.
He tried to step forward, but his body did not respond as he expected. Looking down, he froze.
“…What?”
Gone were his furred paws. In their place were long, hairless arms, ending in five trembling fingers. He turned to the water, gazing at his reflection.
A stranger stared back at him. A man with dark hair cascading past his shoulders, a sharp jawline, and wide, disbelieving blood-red eyes.
“I… am… human.”
A laugh broke from his lips—unfamiliar yet full of release. He laughed and laughed, the weight of his old life lifting. The grief, the loneliness, the aching sorrow—they melted away.
He could finally be with her.
Without another thought, he ran.
He stumbled at first, his new limbs clumsy, his senses unreliable. He learned as he went, how to move, how to see the world through human eyes rather than a wolf’s nose. His body was weaker, but it was precise.
All the while, he practiced the words he longed to say.
“I love you,” he whispered to the falling snow.
And then, at last, the familiar mountain came into view. His heart pounded as he sprinted.
What would she say when she saw him? Would she recognize him? Would she be happy?
But as he reached the place he had always called home, his steps faltered.
“…No.”
The little hut was gone.
Where warmth and laughter once dwelled, only ruin remained. Crumbling walls. A broken door.
Silence.
His breath quickened as he pushed aside the wreckage and stepped inside.
And there, lying in a pool of crimson, was the most beautiful girl he had ever known.
He collapsed beside her, tears spilling down his face.
“You…”
A weak breath—so faint he almost missed it.
He moved closer. Her blue eyes fluttered open, unfocused, yet searching.
He feared she would not recognize his new form.
“I am—”
“I know… those ruby eyes. I would recognize them anywhere…”
His voice failed him. As a wolf, he would have howled his anguish to the sky, but as a man, all he could do was choke on his sorrow.
She smiled, though it was weak.
“I… always wished… to talk to you. To tell you…”
Her breath grew shallow. Her eyelids heavy.
Tears fell onto her cheeks. His tears.
“I… love you.”
Her final words. The ones she had always wanted to say.
Her body went still.
The man trembled. His lips parted.
“I… love you.”
But his voice came too late. She was already gone.
The dam inside him broke. A raw, aching wail tore from his throat, echoing into the night—a sound that was neither human nor wolf.
His wish had been granted. He had spoken to her.
And the world had taken her away.
He held her lifeless body, cursing fate, cursing the gods, cursing himself.
Only later did he learn the truth—a war had erupted between men and wolves, and the little hut had been caught in the crossfire. He never found out which side had struck the fatal blow.
Only that he no longer belonged to either. For...
***
"For he was the first werewolf," a woman said, her voice gentle as she held her little daughter on her lap.
"Mooom, that’s so sad!" Layana whined, burying her face in her mother's neck as she snuggled deeper into her warm embrace.
Her mother smiled softly, running a hand through her daughter's hair. "Yes, it is a tragic story. But it’s an important one. There’s much to learn from it."
Layana frowned, thinking hard. "Learn what?"
Her mother tilted her head, considering. "Well… who do you think was in the wrong? The wolf, for not being content with his life and wanting more? The Moon Goddess, for granting his wish knowing the price he would have to pay? Or the humans and wolves, for waging a war that destroyed everything?"
Layana’s small brows furrowed. She thought so hard it felt like her head might start smoking—but before she could answer, her mother chuckled and tapped her nose.
"One day, you'll find your own answer. And when you do, come tell me."
Layana yawned, her eyelids growing heavier.
"Looks like it’s time for bed," her mother whispered, shifting to tuck her in.
"Mmhmm," Layana hummed sleepily, already drifting.
Her mother pulled the blanket up to her chin, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good night, my love."
Layana slipped into dreams, lost in visions of the werewolf and the girl, never realizing that one day, her own story would be told as another legend.
