"Aaaaah— aaaaaahh!"
The woman's scream slammed into the stone walls and echoed back.
"My God… I think I'm dying… Get it out! Get it out of me!"
The sound of cracking bones filled the chamber. Flesh tore apart. The metallic scent of fresh blood spread through the air. Candles trembled, shadows twisted wildly along the walls.
The midwives froze.
Something was wrong.
This was no ordinary birth.
The woman—Princess Ember of the witches—thrashed in blood, sweat, and magic. None of them knew the truth.
This child…
Carried the blood of both witch and wolf.
Only Ember knew.
Her screams were deafening. The witches chanted every spell they knew, ancient words trembling on their tongues, seals shaking in their hands. Talismans glowed and shattered one after another—but the pain did not fade.
Blood.
Sweat.
And unbearable agony.
"ENOUGH!"
That was Ember's final scream.
Her last breath in this world.
Silence fell for a heartbeat.
Then—
New screams erupted.
Not of pain this time, but of pure terror.
The woman's womb had been torn apart. Flesh and bone lay ruined. What was born was no child.
With its claws stained by its mother's blood,
Its mouth filled with its mother's flesh,
A wolf was born.
The witches' castle was protected by countless spells and seals—barriers no wolf could ever cross.
And yet… this creature had been born within them.
The wolf collapsed onto the floor.
It did not move.
Then—slowly—it began to change.
Bones drew inward. Fur vanished. Claws softened into fingers. No scream escaped its lips. Not a single tear fell.
Silent.
What lay on the floor was no longer a wolf.
It was a baby girl—
Beautiful beyond words.
Her honey-colored eyes shimmered like precious jewels beneath the candlelight.
The women in the chamber could not even mourn the death of their beloved princess. Fear consumed everything else.
Their blood seemed to drain from their faces.
So much magic…
So many seals…
How was this possible?
How could a witch…
Give birth to a wolf?
Princess Ember's pregnancy had been kept secret from the beginning. Even the Queen did not know.
And now, that secret had been written in blood.
The head midwife stepped forward, her gaze never leaving the child.
Her voice was sharp. Cold.
"We must kill it.
This monster.
This cursed baby."
Someone whispered, trembling,
"How?"
"Kill the Queen's grandchild?"
"A wolf born of a witch?"
"How do you kill a curse?"
The head midwife straightened, regaining her composure.
"The Queen knows nothing of this child," she said.
"If she did… she would have given the order herself."
She paused.
"We will not kill it."
The women stared at her.
"We will abandon it among the savages—
Those born of curses, just like it."
They wrapped the baby in cloth barely thick enough to hide her. No name. No blessing.
Then they carried her to the snow-covered Wolf Territory and left her there.
And they returned.
As for the dead Princess Ember…
She was restored as much as possible.
Spells sealed her wounds. Magic reshaped her body. The marks of suffering were erased.
It was as if that child had never been born.
The witches swore an oath—
To bury this cursed secret forever.
But they did not know one thing.
Some curses…
Grow stronger the longer they are hidden.