Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 247: Eye of Wisdom

The moment the light struck the centre of her forehead, a cold sensation bloomed. It spread from her brow through her skull, then seeped into every vein, every fibre of her being.

Then, an unstoppable tide of memory that was not her own surged into her mind. It was not mere knowledge but a symphony of sensation, image, and truth that crashed into her consciousness, threatening to drown her. Reality itself was rewritten in its wake.

She shivered violently. This was not the fleeting chill of winter’s breath, but a deep, root-born cold, seeping up from beneath the very earth and rising through the soles of her feet until it swallowed her whole.

The white trial ground was gone.

She stood instead as a lone consciousness at the base of a tree so vast its branches seemed to hold the heavens aloft. The colossal trunk shimmered like gold-veined mahogany, ageless and eternal. Roots like interconnected rivers pulsed with the colours of life... blue, green, gold, and white. While far above, the branches vanished into clouds of starlight, glowing with an emerald radiance that bathed the skies.

"Yggdrasil!"

The name came unbidden to her mind, not as sound but as a fundamental truth, as certain as her own existence. The air itself thrummed with ancient power, vibrating with a resonance older than time. At the roots, nestled in a cradle of gnarled wood, a pool of luminous water glowed with bioluminescence. Its light was soft, sacred, and heavenly. She felt herself drawn to it with a pull beyond will.

"Mímir’s Well."

The second name struck her with equal certainty.

And then she saw a figure of immense presence emerged from the shadows of memory. Cloaked in storms, he carried an aura of both wrath and yearning. His face was a landscape etched with fierce intelligence, profound sacrifice, and a longing so vast it seared like fire. She felt it within him... the unbearable thirst for knowledge, a hunger so deep it was not desire but pain.

"Odin!"

The name resonated in her core. The All-Father, a king who understood that power without wisdom was a hollow crown.

He bowed his head before the well, reverence woven into the gesture. His voice rang out, not in thunder, but in solemnity.

"My Lord, I have journeyed to the wellspring of all knowing. You know the trials I have endured to reach your presence. My thirst for knowledge is unquenchable, and I will not leave unsatisfied. Whatever price you demand, I shall pay."

From the depths of the well, something stirred.

A figure rose, not wholly a man, but a being born of water itself... fluid and eternal. His form shifted as though he were woven of liquid memory, until, slowly, he took on a vivid, lifelike shape.

by Odin’s measure, yet not brutish. He loomed like a giant, his frame akin to an ancient oak... gnarled, weathered, and immovable. There was strength there, but not of raw violence; it was the

with a high forehead marked not by worry, but by the etchings of endless thought. His eyes were the most striking thing about him... vast and fathomless, the colour

in runes so ancient they seemed to hum faintly. He wore only a plain leather robe, practical, unadorned... like a monk, or a hermit who

what caught the eye most were the

horns jutted from either side of his forehead. One was whole, glowing faintly with a light that seemed drawn from the marrow of the earth. The other was broken, jagged at its edge... a wound, a symbol, perhaps

guardian of

earth’s depths, like rivers cutting their patient paths through epochs. The voice filled Eleanor’s mind,

Odin. Go back. Not all knowledge is meant

swift, his voice threaded with

drank the waters dry, you would still err. You would still die, undone

do," Odin said, his resolve

yourself. For you, seeker of the unknown, the price is perception itself. I will not be cruel as my predecessor was. The cost is but one eye. Half of your vision to

no hesitation. Not the

terrifying resolve. A will so absolute it eclipsed fear. To him, wisdom was dearer than flesh, truth dearer than sight. The thirst for knowledge

reached up. His fingers dug without tremor into the

spilling down his cheek, shining like

surrendering part of her sight. It was not merely the agony of

Odin dropped the eye into

Instead, the well received it, as if the sacrifice

great horn.

not water. It

She felt the weight of history and the tremor of futures yet unborn. It was not a ledger of knowledge,

instant, she understood the true

flesh. He had traded the power to look at things for the wisdom to see them. He did not become a god who knew all; he became the wisest of gods because

her knees upon the blackness of the vault, her breath tearing in ragged gasps. A searing

became unbearable. She fainted as the pain lanced outward from her

claimed her, knowledge crystallised in her

Wisdom / Odin’s

When opened, it eliminates ignorance, illusion, and desire, leading to