✔️| The Gift of a Curse {1}

PROLOGUE

Winston Churchill once said: "If you're going through hell, keep going." Even though everyone thinks that I am oblivious to it, this saying has gradually became the motto that the members of The Open Wound pack follow and believe in over the past couple of years. Deep down inside I feel guilty because even though no one will say it to my face, I know that I am the reason my people, the ones who live under my wing, are being punished for a crime I , and I alone, committed. Now, the place they once called home has turned into a huge cell, one they chose to be locked up in out of loyalty for me.
Even though I am daily accompanied with that culpability, I never regretted my decision to do what I did. If I am given the chance, I would do it again because, while many would argue that it was a monstrous thing to do, it was the only way I could show my people that I am devoted to them, the only way I could deliver justice to them. And while I hate myself for it, I felt some kind of relief when they declared that they too feel faithful to me. After all, they became prisoners for it.
It has been five years, and still that day is printed in my memory as if it occurred last week. The day I was proclaimed a disgrace to the werewolf community, the day I became the big bad wolf parents would tell their children stories about, the day I got cursed by the moon goddess herself.
Despite losing my once honorable and candid reputation, I obtained a valuable lesson: it is not about what is easy; it is about what is right. It is a known lesson, one that is taught all around the world, but it can only be learned when one is met with cruel circumstances. In addition, it usually requires a tremendous sacrifice, but it is worth making. 

Every night, before I close my eyes and go to a world far better than the one I live in, I stare at the red ceiling of my room and think about many things, thousands of things.

I think about the treaty that had been signed a long time ago, even before I was born. When I was a kid my mum would tell me stories about the legendary treaty that occurred hundreds of years ago between the werewolves and the witches. The story goes, that after a millennia of war between the two factions, Artemis' warriors, females who swore to dedicate their lives to serve the moon goddess, decided that they should help create a new age of harmony between the two species. Hence, they arranged meetings between the alphas and the regents. The meetings kept occurring for almost eleven years until finally the perfect negotiations have been accomplished. And the perfect contract has been made, and on the

14th of July 1364 the treaty was signed. It has many items, the most important of them encompass:
- Covens can choose to live with a certain pack in their territory.
-Killing anyone within the two factions is absolutely forbidden unless it happens within a trail held by Artemis' warriors.
-Both factions are obligated to aid each other in times of crisis.
-monthly meetings are to be held to assure the efficiency of the agreement.
-marriage between a witch and a werewolf is decidedly forbidden.
Everyone has been surprised that the treaty has lasted this long, and I cannot help but wonder how my life would be right now if it never even happened. After all, it is because of that useless signed piece of paper that I am now, along with my entire pack, are trapped on our territory unable to leave.
I think about many other things, I get lost in the dangerous path of what ifs. The little possibilities that can modify many parts of my life, dreams that deep down I know will never happen. One of these dreams is to one day clear my name without being imposed to abandon any of my beliefs or principles. Sadly, the alphas need to be authentic and veracious if this is to happen. Another dream is to find my mate, my Luna, but I am twenty five years old which means there is a good chance that she is dead since most werewolves found their mates at least six years ago; I am way past the age. Still, that does not stop me from fantasizing about having someone who I can call mine and I hers, someone who would disregard my notorious reputation and love me conditionally, and someone who would make me want to live and hold me tight when I am in despair. Against both my better judgment and instincts I refuse to relinquish this particular dream. One day, I will find my mate, one day I will be happy.