Why weren’t you fit to be a goddess? Because you created werewolves without their permission?
No. She sniffed. Creating a race of powerful supernaturals was what I was born to do. The Earth was evolving and supernaturals who had formed in the beginning were becoming uncontrolled. Unchecked, the supernatural races would’ve taken over, each Sect trying to kill off the other in a perpetual war. Eventually all humans would have died and there would have been none left to breed or to pray to the gods and goddesses. Everything would’ve been lost. So immortals, like myself, were each tasked with creating a new, powerful race—races that would control the balance. More intelligent beings. I chose mine wisely.
Then why were you punished? I was fading fast and Marinette knew it. Her voice was filled with glee. She would answer any questions now, but only because she no longer had anything to fear. She had what she wanted. I struggled to stay coherent, to hear her answers because they were important. And as I did, something about Juanita’s word pushed at my consciousness, forcing me to listen to her carefully. TAKE.
They deemed me unfit because I veered from Fate’s path.
On purpose? I asked.
Oh yes, she positively cackled. My race was growing strong, fighting and amassing great power, taking down the weak, protecting the humans. The humans were aware that the tides had shifted and they paid me with their homage and prayers, and my power grew by unfathomable degrees. It was a wondrous time.
It couldn’t have been that wondrous if you died, I pointed out.
I did what I had to do. I have no regrets. Her voice was harsh.
You’ve got a captive audience here, and I’m dying to know what you did to piss off Fate.
Her magic was now intertwined inside every piece of me. We were one and I was hanging on by a thread. My wolf was the only reason we hadn’t succumbed just yet. She was still fighting, trying to push Marinette back with everything she had. I created you.
I gasped. Me? I was the reason you were killed?
SHE IS YOU. The knowledge of Juanita’s words dangled in front of me, needling me, begging me to understand.
Your predecessor, to be exact, Marinette spat. The very same wolf who resides inside you now, who fights me even though you have already given up. I didn’t feel like I’d given up, but I was awful sleepy. I couldn’t see my wolf in my mind any longer. Marinette had masked her from me. Do you not wonder why you—and you alone—have two souls?
I have two souls? I sputtered. I was equal parts thunderstruck and baffled by her admission. It was true, I could hold a conversation with my wolf, see her clearly in my mind as an individual. She was pushy and independent, but I’d never considered her as separate. I only had myself to go on, and I figured every wolf could communicate with their inner wolf like I could. But, come to think of it, I’d really never asked anyone.
Marinette laughed at my confusion. Yes, your wolf is separate, of her own mind, unlike your Pack mates. She was actually created with a piece of my very own soul, bred to be the most powerful wolf on the planet. Your predecessor was my greatest achievement, as well as my undoing. Once they found out what I had done, the Hags were only able to kill my living body because my soul was halved. It is also the reason why your body cannot fight me now. Inside you resides my existence, and I’ve finally come back to retrieve what’s mine, like a mother to her child.
Realization dawned on me with crushing clarity.
My wolf had been created so this greedy goddess, my creator, could rule the supernatural world through her. Marinette’s hasty actions had probably led to the necessity of a supernatural Coalition—which had been made up of powerful females—females who had likely come into existence to keep what Marinette had created in check.
Yes. Marinette fed on my mind. She knew my thoughts without me having to project them. Up until then every supernatural had been male. We were only allowed to create males to ensure that humans would remain essential. Her voice held disdain for what she likely considered the lesser race. The male races had been created by magic, fed by Fate, and manifested by the gods and goddesses. But as my valiant Sect, powerful and hungry, fought for their rightful place at the top, they began to falter. The vampires and the fae were gaining leverage and I was forced to do something critical, so I created something that would be a game changer for the supernatural world and everything in it.
And one female wolf did all that? It was clear to me my creator suffered from delusions of grandeur, but I knew she wasn’t alone in this mind-set. If she hadn’t done it, another god or goddess would’ve done something similar, all to gain the perceived upper hand.