Chapter 1.
To those reading this, you're about to experience a bit of a culture shock—or, more precisely, you're about to learn about a whole other world you may or may not be familiar with. First, I'll start with a brief introduction. Then I'll give you a bit of my backstory, just so you understand the mess that is our world.
For starters, my name is Xander—or, if you meet my other self, Xerena. You might be asking, Why do you have both a male and female name? Well, that's because I can be either. I'm what's known as a fae shapeshifter—or "fairie," depending on who you ask.
Normally, that would mean I could shift into animals or other beings—cats, foxes, whatever. But from the time I was about a year old, I began switching between male and female. Gotta say, that took some getting used to. Going to sleep as a dude and waking up with boobs? Talk about awkward.
That said, my shapeshifting is actually quite limited. Most fae can take on any form they want, but I only have four: male, female, a pure white wolf, and a gorgeous doe. It's assumed my limited shifting comes from my mixed parentage. I inherited my shapeshifting from my mother, and my father passed down his powers over ice and snow. Interestingly, my forms are linked to my current gender—when I'm male, I become a wolf; when I'm female, a doe.
Anyway, moving on. Let me give you some more personal info. I was born male. To quote my mother, I was "a beautiful baby boy with pure white hair and deep green eyes." A bit dramatic, but not inaccurate. The hair came from my father, the eyes from my mother.
Physically, in my male form, I've got the build of a lightweight MMA fighter—lean muscle, decently tall at 6'1". In my female form, I'm a bit shorter at 5'10", with an hourglass build and a lot of muscle. My wolf form? Also tall—about 3.5 feet at the shoulder and roughly 200 lbs., with white fur and those same green eyes. My doe form is pretty standard for a white-tailed deer, aside from the persistent green eyes. If you've seen a female white-tailed deer, you basically know what I look like.
People who know of the fae often ask, What court are you part of? That's... complicated. My mother is from the Spring Court (the Seelie), and my father—whoever the hell he is—was part of the Winter Court (the Unseelie). Don't ask me how that happened. I've never gotten a straight answer from my mom. Whether it's fear or disgust, I don't know.
Because of my mother, I was raised in the Spring Court, surrounded by the usual fae trickery—though more subdued than you'd expect. Sure, they played tricks on unsuspecting mortals, but with a lighter, more seductive tone. Imagine tricksters who flirt and charm instead of just deceive.
That said, I've been told I could claim membership in the Winter Court too. Not sure why they'd accept me, considering the Seelie and Unseelie are basically locked in eternal conflict. I assume it has something to do with my father, but again—no answers from Mom. So, if you ask me what court I belong to, I'd have to say: both. Or neither.
Enough about that. You need some more context before we dive headfirst into the mess that is my life.
First off, and I mean this literally: all mythologies are real. Gods, monsters, demons, fae, werewolves, vampires—you name it. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if that H.P. Lovecraft guy was onto something and there really are cosmic horrors out there waiting to delete the planet.
Mortals, of course, are mostly unaware. Some powerful ones—politicians, corporate elites—know about us because we interact with them. But the general public? Clueless. That's starting to change, though, thanks to the war that's breaking out between "mortals" and the gods.
Yes, you heard that right. The gods are at war with mortals. And to them, beings like fae, vampires, and werewolves are still considered "mortal." Arrogance seems to be a defining trait among deities.
There are exceptions—like Hestia, the Greek goddess of the hearth. She's basically the most wholesome being I've ever met. Multiply the most loving person you know by five, and you've got her.
One last thing before we get to the good stuff: this "war" is really a genocide. The gods want to wipe out mortals. Think Record of Ragnarök—except instead of a tournament, it's full-scale global warfare. No one knows exactly why it started. Some say Zeus got pissed and dragged the rest of the pantheons into his tantrum. Others think it's something deeper. Either way, we're fighting to survive.
As I write this, we're prepping for a strike against one of the Celtic pantheon's strongholds on Earth.
But I'll get to that later. Right now, it's time to tell you about my past. And by "past," I mean my past life.