Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 184: History of Clan Blanc

The land stretches gently, a mixture of open skies and quietly rolling ground, where fields blur into patches of woodland and thickets cluster along the edges of winding lanes. Tall grasses shift with the wind, their pale-green blades dancing under a sky that changes often... one moment bright and open, the next veiled in slow-moving clouds.

Hedgerows border the roads like green walls, thick with hawthorn, ivy, and nettle, tangled together in wild patterns. In spring and early summer, they bloom with scattered white blossoms and the subtle hum of bees moving between tiny flowers. Elder trees lean over fences, their branches shaped by years of weather, casting dappled shade on the earth below.

Beyond the hedges, broad meadows open up... not flat, but gently undulating and dotted with wildflowers: buttercups, cow parsley, and the occasional thistle pushing through with stubborn beauty. Birds are constant companions here. Wood pigeons wheel across the air in soft flurries, crows stand sentinel on fenceposts, and smaller birds flit between the low brush and rustling grass.

Closer to the wooded areas, the light changes. It becomes filtered, golden, falling through the leaves in long, broken beams. The ground underfoot is soft with fallen leaves and moss, and the air carries the cool, damp scent of old trees and shaded soil. In these quiet groves, the sound of the outside world fades, replaced by birdsong, the occasional rustle of small creatures, and the whisper of breeze through the canopy.

Even the wind seems to know its path here... slipping over the rise of distant hills, bending the tall grasses, shaking a few early petals free. On misty mornings, the whole landscape lies hidden in a silver veil, and when the sun returns, it washes everything in a pale glow, drawing dew from every leaf and blade.

Knowsley is a landscape of quiet resilience... shaped by seasons, wind, and the long patience of nature, still alive and untouched along the edges of the human world.

Amidst this sanctuary of nature, Clan Blanc had resided for hundreds of years. They were a peace-loving clan that lived in isolation, away from worldly affairs. In ancient times, no one dwelled in this vast expanse of woods and lakes but this reclusive werewolf clan.

During eras of chaos and war, their unique shadow ability drew the attention of other supernatural races, who sought to enslave them for their own ends. The shadow power had limited offensive capabilities... it was effective for assassination of lower beings, but not in direct combat. Its true strengths lay in scouting and espionage. To defend themselves, Clan Blanc had to rely solely on their superior werewolf physique.

But as generations passed in peace and seclusion, even their physical strength waned.

the Supernatural Council was established... a time of anarchy. Slavery was the norm then, and power among supernatural clans was often measured by the

Even now, most supernatural species view each other with rivalry and disdain, but when it

clans considered themselves superior to others, endlessly killing and enslaving each other to prove it. Yet, as the most populous of all intelligent races, with an exceptionally high reproductive rate,

warriors were ever deemed worthy of becoming slaves in the supernatural world. The rest had no value. Supernatural forces were far more interested in

for espionage and infiltration. But they all failed. The Blanc territory was remote... isolated from other clans, and sending a large force left one’s own stronghold vulnerable. Moreover, Clan Blanc

a time, this

their rare ability spread far and wide, word eventually reached beyond their

when the

immobilised all the Clan Blanc

degree. As an Alpha, he possessed immense mental resilience and physical prowess. When he realised his clan would surely lose, he made the decision to flee and seek

of Mamucium, which is now known as Clayton in Manchester...

They were famed as scholars, and other werewolf clans... and even other races sought their counsel. Though known for their intellect, their combat reputation was formidable. Most clans feared them, not

he approached them and humbly pleaded for protection. In return, Clan Blanc would offer their service

were intrigued by this offer. Thus,

a few lives were lost. He tracked the captors to Liuerpul Beach, where the Blanc Clan members were chained and awaiting transport across the Irish Sea... known then as Mare

of the Raynor Clan, was the only one who came to rescue the members of Clan Blanc. Although Aethelred was somewhat hesitant and uncertain about the success of the mission, he didn’t dare voice his doubts, not wanting

dissolved... leaving only awe, fear,