Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 118: The Council Members-2

At this time, three cars stopped one after another. Baatar, Amir, and Matthias stepped out from their vehicles.

Baatar Erdene Altanshagai, the Lorekeeper of the werewolves and head of the Altanshagai Clan, served as the guardian of history, traditions, prophecies, and ancient wisdom. He maintained ancestral records with a devotion few could fathom.

Baatar bore the stillness of an ancient mountain and the fire of stories untold. His weather-worn cloak, stitched with thread dyed from mountain herbs, whispered as he moved... each step deliberate, as if he were treading through time itself. His black hair was braided into a warrior’s tail, silver strands glinting like frost over stone.

Eyes like obsidian slits scanned the world not for threats, but for truths... those hidden beneath dust, blood, and legend. A carved wolf-tooth talisman hung from his chest, said to have belonged to the first guardian of the steppes. Around his shoulders was a heavy scarf patterned with ancient clan symbols.

He greeted the others with a rumbling voice that rolled like distant thunder. "Looks like we are the last ones."

This Mongolian born was the one who remembered what others forgot. Some said he could recite a thousand years of werewolf lore from memory. Others swore that his clan’s bloodline awakening process passed memories as though he had lived them himself.

Beside him stood Amir Anpukhet Ahmose, the Scholar of the werewolves. He was responsible for updating werewolf teaching modules and conducting supernatural research.

under a moonless night, reflecting the secrets of forgotten

marked with faint, intricate tattoos resembling ancient hieroglyphs. These traced his forearms and neck, shimmering subtly when touched by light, alive with the stories

spoke of wisdom earned. He wore robes woven from

could decipher. His presence exuded a quiet power... reserved, yet undeniable. When Amir spoke, his voice was steady and measured, carrying the cadence of knowledge

of the werewolves and head of Clan Graventhal of Switzerland. He was the mediator and voice of the lesser packs, responsible

touch. His silver-threaded coat, tailored with precision in the Graventhal tradition, bore the insignia of balanced scales over a howling wolf... an emblem

measured not by status or strength,

and kings, Matthias did not dominate with raw power. His influence

it. But there’s another car behind

low, tempered like fine steel, and each word seemed chosen with surgical precision. He spoke like a man accustomed to ending feuds with a sentence... or a

packs, he was a shield. To the proud clans, a mirror. To the Council, the

sight of her, all three men placed their palms on their chests and bowed slightly, offering

of the werewolves and head of the Harivamsa Clan of India, led the werewolves in