As a child, I was often told stories of princesses and princes riding off into the sunset, wrapped in an eternal embrace. Many of my sisters and brothers started to believe and hope that one day their very own prince or princess would sweep them off their feet... I was foolish like that once.
For eighteen years I was told my prince would come, that the one who was made to be my other half would ride in on a white horse to carry me off to live a life that was finally ‘complete’. That was what my people believed.
My people are lycanthropes or werewolves in simpler terms. We are the beasts that humans fear, the reason they lock their doors and hide their children when the full moon rises. However, in reality, it does very little to save them as we could steal their children away even during the day if we wanted to, but many of us are not the monsters they believe us to be. They believe that we are heartless and not capable of loving anything other than ourselves… but that is far from the truth. We do believe in soulmates. We believe that the Moon Goddess made us a life partner that we could lean on for support no matter what...at least that is what we are told.
We were never told what happens to us when that person who is supposed to be our soulmate is cruel and emotionless. Instead of leaving marks of love and affection on your body they leave behind the scars of a whip. What happens if instead of receiving constant acclamations of their love you they remind you of how much they hate your very existence.