The evening of the party had arrived, as had the guests - none of whom were my friends - the girls and boys I'd grown up with. Strange considering the whole darned thing was honouring me, myself, I. Then again, I don't think I'd have any friends left if they knew of my family's peculiar religion and um, genetics. 

Mummy dearest had certainly spared no coin for the evening's festivities; this had to be one of the most lavish parties in Borrowdale's history. My mother's extravagance embarrassed me, always had since a very young age. Although my dad was earning good money, it never failed to amaze me how quickly my mum could spend it. And parties were her favourite thing.

Everyday townsfolk, of course, believed the party was in honour of yet another of my dad's business successes. As the CEO of EcoTech, a leading company in the management of biodegradable structures enhanced with AI technology, he was considered somewhat of a pioneer. 

With a predilection for wildlife preservation, enabling schemes to benefit both man and beast, my dad's latest contribution had hugely impacted the Forestry Commission and the Wildlife Trust, offering a futuristic approach to keeping an already fragile ecological system from further devastation. This achievement was met with much praise and commendation and was hailed as 'this year's best and most innovative contribution' within its field. Consequently, my dad's achievement could not have been better timed, for it served as the perfect cover for my inauguration. 

His work had, allegedly,  been extremely beneficial for those of us born with a certain 'genetic mutation'. Of course, this was not known in the mainstream population, but it did enable both man and beast to co-habit without too many unfortunate events. Still, all the guests at my party were werewolves (according to Mum and Dad). No mainstreamers allowed.

I knew only the basics of the invited clans and their packs, having been told about most by my parents over the years. Still, I considered them all equally fanciful and deluded. 

A number of guests obviously shared my parents' ideology and were ardent followers of Ishtar. A second, lesser-known doctrine in the vicinity and based on a Roman soldier called Niciros was also in attendance, as were the Lycaean Zeus and the Damarchus clan, both of Greek mythology, also the Volsungs, a Nordic clan, and not forgetting the Verdun and Burgot brood, whose bloodline hailed from the year 1521, but rumour had it their tale was really just about a couple of serial killers. That did not deter their disciples, of course, who firmly believed them to have been genuine werewolves. Incredible to think that such a multifarious group of individuals all adopted mythical creatures as their idols. Of course, the source of any given clan did not determine their subsequent packs' nationalities or where they lived. No, these founding clans boasted members worldwide.

The appointment of Ishtar's Heir had been readily sanctioned by all clans. Quite why, I didn't understand. And, other than the donning of a title, what the hell was it meant to verify anyway? No doubt some long-winded contract would outline my duties and responsibilities. How disappointed everyone would be when they realised the entire foundation on which their faith rested was a load of trumped-up crap.

Even following my harrowing dream from two days ago, I still couldn't bring myself to acknowledge that werewolves were real and that perhaps my parents were just sad, deluded cultists.

I nervously looked at my watch, seeing if it was synchronised with the large grandfather clock in the entrance hall. Not long now, I thought miserably. The Matthews' Special Announcement was imminent. 

As I mingled with guests, I found myself unusually receptive to their conversations and politely listened as they readily discussed their respective clans.  I already knew Ishtar was renowned for being the woman Gilgamesh rejected because of her reputation with her past suitors. However, the modern disciples' devotion stemmed from her treatment of a particular young shepherd who was deeply in love with her. Having become bored by the young man's attentions, the Goddess cursed him, and he became a wolf. Allegedly, he was later killed by his hounds. It was gruesome, yes, let alone ridiculous.

Devotees of the other clans, or packs, were equally animated in support of their deities. But I sensed something else; an underlying tone which seemed to simmer beneath their adulation.  Could it be that there was a genuine rivalry between the clans and their individual packs? Granted, I'd heard about some perhaps less than subtle differences when eavesdropping on my parents over the years. However, listening to the guests at the party, I was betwixt considering it as a clash of personalities or a fight for dominance. Did these people really engage in such... roleplay? 

Shrugging off my reverie, I refocused on my father who was approaching the dais from which he planned to make the announcement. I wrung my hands together, a sign of my nervousness. While I was quietly confident in many things, being put on public display was not one of them. 

"Stop that," my mother whispered, gesturing to my hands. "You should be excited, not anxious."

I sighed heavily. "You know I can't stand your parties, especially when it's anything to do with your religion. How many times do I have to tell you I do not share your faith?"

My mum scoffed, barely hiding her annoyance. "It's not a case of whether you do or don't, Bria. It's in your genes. You are what you are, and nothing can change that."

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that I'm going to... become some sort of...?"

Mother stared at me, incredulous. "Has the other night taught you nothing?"

I clucked my tongue and looked away. How could a grown woman put so much faith into a stupid dream? It was beyond me.

But my ever-so-deluded mother had not finished. "I know things didn't go according to plan when you turned seventeen. You should have experienced your first transformation, but you didn't. Nevertheless, in two nights' time, you will. I have no doubt whatsoever, and finally, you'll be all you can be. Just like your father and me. Only better."

A bitter laugh left my lips. "Not my choice of a career path, Mother. And since when was success  determined by a set of fangs and a glossy fur coat?"

Her eyes flashed a warning and she hushed me, telling me to keep my voice and attitude in check. "Show some respect, Bria."

Her chastisement only fuelled my stubbornness. "Listen, I've never witnessed anything to suggest what you're telling me has an ounce of truth," I retaliated. "How on earth do you expect me to accept what you're telling me as fact and believe in some old-world Goddess who is more fable than reality?"

I was awarded yet another stern look. "You were so ready to believe in God and Jesus, were you not?" Her tone was unmistakably caustic.

I rolled my eyes. I'd heard this argument a hundred times.

"Tell me," Mother continued. "What proof do you have that they exist? What is so convincing about them?"

Of course, I had no answer, nothing that proved their existence and, when I thought about it, nothing that supported my decision to choose the Christian faith as opposed to Ishtar. All I knew for sure, was that this titular religion was a huge part of my parent's lives, and they expected me to follow suit. As usual, my mother had the last word. And that gave rise to resentment as I thought back to certain choices and events that had shaped my life.

Initially, my parents had allowed me to participate in the rituals of Sunday School and later, as I grew up, to attend Church on Sundays, but always with the understanding Christianity was not their way. Now, I realised their permission was just a ploy for us to integrate into the mainstream, to allude to any suspicions of my parents' weird beliefs and practices.

Academically, I did well enough to secure a place in college. I'd had dreams like many a young woman with a career of my choosing in which I'd excel, of course. I wanted a pet, preferably a cat, and a place of my own, far away from my mother, although that meant Ieaving my dad as well, which wasn't something I favoured. But, I did need to escape all the madness, this weird religion that had somehow managed to captivate both my parents and a shitload of their friends. And finally, I wanted to find a well-doing but normal and down-to-earth boyfriend who would love me unconditionally. 

Alas, when the revelation of my bloodline was made fully known to me two years ago at 18, my dreams were instantly and brutally dashed. The honour of being anointed Heir was pending at that time as there were specific protocols to be considered, which would take time to determine. But the fact that I was considered the recipient of this paean made my parents beyond proud. They were euphoric. Obsessed. Insisting their lineage was more than just mythological, they swore it was genuine and authentic and that I should be ecstatic to be part of it.

Well, I wasn't. Life was complicated enough without this ridiculous mantle hanging over me. How I'd prayed someone else would be chosen so I didn't have to face the pomp and circumstance indubitably associated with the whole lunatic charade.

But I was unfortunate enough to have won the distinction, and now I stood with all the guests, waiting for it to be made official. 

A clinking of metal on glass announced it was time. I looked up at my father in his tailored suit, with his glass in hand as he cast his eyes over the guests. A few moments later, an anticipated hush spread throughout the large hall. 

Peering from behind his distinguished figure, I looked at the sea of faces. I knew some of them, yes, but others were unfamiliar, no doubt connections through my dad's business. It was difficult for me to accept so many individuals avidly followed the same, somewhat peculiar faith as my parents. It was so far removed from the more familiar religions worldwide. 

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?" My dad's voice reached over the heads of the guests, and all eyes turned towards him. I couldn't help but be proud of him, regardless of his faith. He was not only a successful businessman, but he was a fair, kind and amiable man. Handsome too with notable charm that could influence the sternest of men. Standing at 5'11", possessing a medium but fairly athletic build, a roguish smile and sparkling blue eyes, he could also sway the most prudish of women. But, beyond all of that, he was a wonderful dad.

"Welcome, everyone," he continued, "and thank you for coming to our home to celebrate this... very special occasion." 

He turned his eyes to me as I was ushered to his side by my mother. His expression faltered. He must have noted how disenchanted I looked. It vexed me to see him so disappointed, so I forced a smile when our eyes met.  He held out his hand, and I accepted, standing at his side with the biggest fake smile I could muster. His speech then carried on.  "After lengthy consideration and intensive research, the much sought-after title within our unique communities has finally been entrusted to the rightful beneficiary. It is, therefore, with much humility, and indeed a great honour, to announce that our daughter, Bria, has been anointed Heir to Ishtar's Legacy."

Everyone erupted in applause and cheer. The noise startled and embarrassed me at the same time. I was inwardly cringing as my parents stood beaming at everyone, raising their glasses in a toast and celebrating the momentous occasion—the sacred moment I was officially acknowledged as the Heir.

******

Word Count: 1973

Running Total: 8943