Nerida

Nerida had always been haunted by the whispers. "Monster," they called her, as if her appearance was a curse—something twisted and wrong. Her brown fur, tinged with an otherworldly pink, shimmered like scales in the moonlight, more akin to the sea than the forest. She loathed the way they stared, the way pups flinched at the sight of her, and how even those closest to her kept their distance, fearful of the creature she seemed to embody.

One night, desperate and seething with the pain of rejection, she sought out the one wolf rumored to grant the darkest wishes: Vulcan. He was a shadow among shadows, a creature draped in night itself, with hollow eyes that seemed to pierce into one's very soul. An outcast even among outcasts, Vulcan's name was whispered with dread, and his bargains were said to be more than a wolf could bear.

Nerida approached him as he lingered by a twisted tree in the forgotten part of the forest. "Vulcan," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "I know what you can do. They say you can grant any wish… for a price."

Vulcan's gaze flicked to her, his expression unreadable. "You know the cost, then," he rasped, his voice like the crackle of dry leaves. "A wish paid in sanity or soul… which will you offer?"

She squared her shoulders, a flicker of desperation in her eyes. "Take what you want. I don't care anymore. I just want the whispers to stop—the eyes, the fear, the hate. I want to be seen as something more than a monster."

For a long moment, Vulcan was silent, simply staring at her. Then, a low, mocking chuckle escaped his throat. "You? Asking me for relief from suffering? How pitifully predictable."

Nerida's ears flattened against her skull, a snarl curling her lips. "You mock me, but you don't understand what it's like! I've lived my entire life being despised for something I never asked for!"

Vulcan's expression remained cold, but his voice dripped with dark amusement. "Oh, I understand far more than you think, Nerida. And that's exactly why I won't grant your wish."

Shock flashed in her eyes. "What? But I—"

"Silence," he snapped, his tone sharp as a blade. "Do you truly believe a change in appearance or a spell will erase what haunts you? No. The true curse lies not in your flesh but in your weakness." He leaned closer, his gaze burning into hers. "You think suffering can be wished away? Foolish. I refuse to waste my power on one who hasn't learned the first lesson of surviving torment."

Nerida recoiled, her heart pounding. "You want me to suffer?" she whispered, hurt and anger swirling within her.

"Yes," Vulcan hissed, almost relishing the word. "Because only through suffering will you discover whether you can truly overcome it. I could grant your wish and strip away your pain, but you would remain a hollow thing—forever dependent on others for your worth." He turned away, as if dismissing her entirely. "I won't grant a wish that would rob you of the chance to stand on your own."

Nerida stared at him, her vision blurring with tears of frustration. "So what am I supposed to do now? Just… keep being a monster?"

Vulcan's gaze softened ever so slightly, though his voice remained firm. "Monster or not, what matters is how you see yourself. You think you need magic to change how others perceive you, but the real change must come from within. Grow into the monster they fear—or rise above it. The choice is yours."

Without another word, Vulcan vanished into the darkness, leaving Nerida alone with her swirling thoughts. The rejection stung like a thousand thorns, but as the night stretched on, she realized the truth in his words. Perhaps her real battle wasn't against the whispers or the stares, but against the doubt gnawing at her from within.

It would be a long road, but if she couldn't rely on dark magic, she would have to forge her own strength and confidence. Nerida clenched her jaw, determination flickering to life in her heart. She might be seen as a monster, but she would decide what kind of monster she would be—one that cowered, or one that commanded respect.

The whispers wouldn't change overnight, but Nerida swore she would change herself, with or without magic.