Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 9 - Bloodawakening

"Welcome, Clan Head." An old man with long, silver-white hair greeted Fiona with a bow, following the traditions of the werewolf clan. He was dressed in a flowing white robe, resembling a scholar from Greek mythology... a sight that immediately reminded Eleanor of characters she had seen in movies.

Fiona returned the bow and said, "Greetings, Elder Bedivere. I hope you are well."

Bedivere smiled warmly. "I sensed the ripple at the gate and came to see our guest. I was secretly hoping you had brought a young talent for this year's Ancestral Moon." His gaze shifted to Eleanor, studying her intently, as if evaluating her worth.

Fiona turned to Eleanor and introduced him. "Eleanor, this is Elder Bedivere. He is the steward of the ancestral land. I may be the Clan Head, but here, he is the true authority."

Eleanor, still caught off guard by the old man's uncanny resemblance to an aged knight from Arthurian legends, snapped out of her daze. She quickly placed her palm over her heart and bowed. "Greetings, Elder Bedivere."

Bedivere chuckled. "Welcome to Rayndell, Eleanor. Fiona brought you here on the eve of the Ancestral Moon; that alone speaks volumes about your potential. May our ancestors bless you."

He turned back to Fiona. "Follow me. Some of the elders have come out of seclusion. They are in the courtyard."

Eleanor followed Fiona and Bedivere through the winding paths of the ancestral land until they reached a vast courtyard, surrounded by wooden houses. Seated around a round table were three old women and two old men, sipping tea. As the trio approached, the elders turned their attention toward them, their gazes unreadable.

Fiona bowed deeply. "Greetings, Elders. May the gods bless you with wisdom, strength, and clarity." Eleanor followed her example.

The elders placed their palms over their hearts and responded, "Greetings, Clan Head." Though they acknowledged her presence, they remained seated, a sign of their high status.

One of the elderly women, her pale skin almost translucent against the backdrop of her long, white hair, studied Eleanor carefully. "Fiona, is she an Elizabeth candidate?"

are as sharp as ever. She is

their

her gaze. "Eighty-nine

The revelation left the elders visibly shaken. Even the woman, seemingly unfazed moments ago, stood up and approached Eleanor. She raised her index finger and pressed it gently

she retracted her hand and murmured, "I see. You have fully accepted your

Fiona. "Go and prepare her for the ritual. I will

wooden hut. "This will be your temporary residence during your stay here," she explained. "Tonight is the Ancestral Moon, a sacred time when werewolves connect with their lineage, receiving wisdom or visions from those who came before us. At midnight, you will undergo an uncontrollable transformation. Do not resist it; let it happen

Eleanor nodded, listening intently.

"But don't worry. My grandmother will oversee the ritual. The runes inscribed at the altar will confine you, preventing you from harming yourself or others. You may see visions, hear voices from

our blood to our ancestor, Elizabeth Raynor. Her spirit will protect you from harm. If you're fortunate, she might even teach you something valuable. And if the gods favor you,

"The ritual may be painful or even frightening. But remember, do not resist. The more you resist, the greater the pain. Many members of our pack do not even

deep breath and, after a pause, asked hesitantly, "Is there any risk to

head. "On the contrary, if our ancestor deems your child worthy, she may bless it, making

nodded and, following Fiona's instructions, cleansed herself before

***

an hour before midnight, Fiona led Eleanor through a garden bathed in moonlight. At its center stood a grand altar, covered in ancient runes that Eleanor could not decipher. Behind it, a colossal stone wolf stood tall, an eternal sentinel watching over the sacred ground. Carved from obsidian-black granite, its surface shimmered under the soft light, as if the night sky itself had been woven into its form. Majestic yet fearsome, it exuded an air of both primal savagery and

presence weigh

Fiona's grandmother, stood before the altar. Her piercing gaze met Eleanor's. "I will be in charge of your ritual. Follow my instructions carefully. No matter what appears before you, do

"I understand. Thank you." Though