Once upon a time, there was a beautiful nymph who... oh cut the crap, that was me and my life wasn't a fairy tale. Not in the slightest.
It started off well, though. My father was Lycaon, King of Arcadia. He wasn't the nicest man to his subjects, but he was to his daughters. He had fifty sons with a range of different women, most of whose names I can't even remember anymore. But there were only three girls: Dia, Psophis and me. Callisto. He called us his nymphs, his carefree, pretty spirits.
He spoilt us and gave us the best life he could afford to – which was basically paradise. I grew up in a palace, surrounded by opulence and money. I got whatever I wanted. Servants were around me at all times, waiting to do my bidding. It's a miracle I didn't grow up to be a self-obsessed glutton.
It was a good life. I was beautiful, rich and living among the most famous Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Greece. I wasn't one of them, but I wasn't far off. I was probably richer than a lot of them.
You may have heard of Artemis, the Goddess of the Hunt. Well, she was my best friend. And would have been my lover, if she hadn't taken a misguided vow to remain a virgin. She was stunning. Green eyes that sparkled when the sunlight hit them, long smooth hair that she bound back when she went on a hunt, an athletic but feminine body. She was magnificent and every day, I asked myself how I deserved to be her friend. Her best friend.
I didn't have a job or responsibilities at Court, so I spent my days hunting with Artemis, and then celebrating the spoils of the hunt all through the night. There were several of us, all women, all virgins just like the Goddess of the Hunt, but I believe I was Artemis' favourite. We did everything together.
But of course, nothing good ever lasts. My beauty became my downfall.
Zeus, the most dick-controlled God in the universe, set his eyes on me. He may have had his brain in his balls, but he nonetheless managed to trick me. Let's not go into detail, it's too embarrassing, but basically, I ended up pregnant. Of course, Artemis was furious. I had not only broken my vow of celibacy, but I had also slept with the husband of one of her other female friends, Hera.
Artemis was a passionate woman. Passionate in friendship, but also passionate in hate.
The love we had for each other turned into something dark and twisted. In her anger, she turned me into a bear. Yes, I know that sounds like a fairy tale, but trust me, it wasn't. It was painful. I was in agony for weeks, if not months. My limbs felt wrong, my body didn't do what my head wanted it to, and I starved myself because the sight of raw meat made me throw up.
Nobody wanted anything to do with me. Least of all Zeus, who had got me into that predicament, and whose child I was carrying. I left the place I had grown up in and disappeared into the mountains. My life became lonely. Hard. Sometimes I got close to death. But I couldn't give up.
Because inside of me, a baby was growing. A cub. The first bear shifter.
When Arcas was born, I thought everything was going to be alright. It was only me and him, but that was enough. We lived together in the foothills of the mountains I had fled to, a perfect nursery for a little cub. Food was plentiful there and by then, I knew how to hunt.
My son was a bear cub at first, but when he was three years old, he turned human for the first time. It was a shock. Then, it gave me hope. He might be able to live in a normal society. He wouldn't have to stay out in the woods forever. He would be able to have a real life.
I was so hopeful.
What a fool I was.
When Arcas was sixteen, I sent him away to my father's palace in the hope that he would be able to be welcomed there like the Prince he was. I didn't hear from him for two years. But when he did return, he brought along his teacher, Raoul. A man as radiant as the sun. I immediately fell in love with him. And it was true love, not what I had felt for Zeus when he'd seduced me.
After a few weeks, my son left again, going back to his new life among humans and Gods. Raoul stayed. He was a human, but he didn't mind me being a bear. He saw beyond my fur and bulky body. He saw the real Callisto.
I began to think that maybe the curse on me wasn't so bad. That I wouldn't have found Raoul otherwise.
Pah. The Fates are bitches and they shot me in the back. Quite literally. Although it was Artemis who wielded the arrow. To this day, I don't know if she was hunting bears or me.
The result was the same. I died in Raoul's arms.
But why are you not dead, I hear you ask? Blame Zeus. He was in the hunting party and recognised me. Maybe it was a bolt of guilt, maybe it was just to show the others what an amazing God he was. In any case, he turned me into a spirit. I'm not sure if he intended to do the same to Raoul or if that was an accident.
Instead of dying as a bear, I was ripped out of my body and became… something. I'm a soul, I suppose, or a ghost.
A spirit who has been without a body for a long time.
Until Isla came along.