Bnn Long before time carved borders between gods and mortals, before werewolves howled at the moon or witches whispered in shadowed forests, she was born.
Valeria.
Daughter of the Prime Deities—her birth heralded by stardust storms and blooming galaxies. The heavens rejoiced, for it was said she would embody love and beauty—a radiant goddess to inspire poets, artists, and warriors alike.
And for a time, she did.
But as Valeria grew, so did her silence.
The world adored her. Worshipped her face, praised her form, gifted her jewels and kingdoms and compliments—but no one ever listened.
They never saw her.
Not the girl who mastered the blade faster than her brothers. Not the strategist who once led a victory in a celestial war with a glance and a whisper. No—only the shell was seen. A divine ornament, meant to be treasured, not taken seriously.
Until he came.
He wasn't a god of renown, not at first. Just a man with eyes that didn't drift down her curves but looked into the storm behind them. He saw her power—not just her beauty—and it made her feel whole.
She loved him.
Fiercely. Quietly.
And when her younger sister Lunaria was chosen by the great celestial council to become the Moon Goddess—to guide the tides and birth the werewolf clans—Valeria rejoiced. She had her path, and Valeria had hers. A future filled with love and self-discovery.
Until the day he vanished.
She searched every realm for him, her heart thundering with fear.
And then she found him.
In her sister's bed.
Their bodies entwined. Their scent drenched in one another. Her world shattered.
They said they didn't mean for it to happen.
They said the mate bond—that cursed, divine pull—had ignited between them, and they were helpless before it. Even he, the man who once held Valeria as though she was more precious than the stars, now claimed he had lost the battle against fate.
Valeria didn't weep.
She walked out of their chamber, head held high—and declared war.
In the Celestial Court, before the gods and her parents, Valeria made a proclamation.
"If fate ignores my will, then I shall create my own legacy. I shall birth a race of women, witches, whose power will belong only to them. Men among them shall be few and powerless, ornaments and servants—not rulers. I will build a world where no woman will ever be betrayed by destiny."
Gasps echoed through the divine halls.
But her parents—guardians of balance—saw what she could not: her path was no longer just rebellion. It was self-destruction.
Her mother, the Goddess of Light and Joy, intervened with a final boon to try to anchor her fate.
"From the men of your witchblood shall come a hollow line," her mother spoke, voice trembling with divine finality. "And from that hollow line—joined with a daughter of the werewolves—shall be born your true fated mate. The one who was meant for you. Even if you reject him, the bond shall one day find you."
Valeria screamed her defiance.
But the boon had already been cast. Written in the fabric of time.
In fury, she began to hunt the hollow line. Killing children born of that cursed pairing. Ending lives before they could fulfill the prophecy. Her vengeance was cold, methodical.
Until Lunaria and her divine mate—Zoran, the War God—intervened.
They bound Valeria in ancient chains and sealed her in the Netherworld, where she would drift in endless sleep, trapped in twilight between planes.
For millennia, she waited.
Not asleep. Not awake.
Burning with betrayal.
Plotting her vengeance.
And then… Jeremy Soren found her.
A cursed warlock. Twisting seals he barely understood. Arrogant, brilliant, reckless.
The moment she opened her eyes and felt his presence, she knew.
Hollow line.
Her fated mate.
The irony made her laugh for the first time in centuries.
The attraction was immediate, magnetic, sickening. It made her weak—and she hated it.
So she cloaked herself in mystery. Played the role of the seductress. Drew him in with her power, her beauty. Let him fall to his knees before her, begging for her.
But she would not beg.
She would use him.
Let him be her vessel of freedom.
Let him help her destroy Lunaria, Zoran, and the world that cast her aside.
And when she reclaimed the heavens, when she stood over her sister's broken throne, Valeria would do what every man had once done to her.
Discard him.
After all, no man had ever loved her for her mind, her pain, or her fury.
Only for her cursed, perfect body.
And she would remind the gods what they had created.