Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 253

Chapter 253: Unlucky Human and Lucky Werewolf

Chapter 253: Unlucky Human and Lucky Werewolf

Eleanor followed Arrichion into the castle. There were no guards to stop their way; no sentries to glance at them. The silence was uncanny, the emptiness oppressive. They eventually reached a vast hall that could only be a throne room... at its far end, a massive stone chair loomed, less a seat of comfort than a seat of judgement. Eleanor moved as if in a dream, her body obeying Arrichion’s lead while her mind reeled. She sank into one of the lesser stone chairs lining the hall, her senses still reeling from the enormity of where she was.

She had joined the School of Mixed Martial Arts with nothing more than a quiet hope of learning a few secrets from the legendary Supreme Grandmaster Scáthach. Never, not even in the wildest flight of her imagination, had she thought she would one day set foot in Dún Scáith itself.

Minutes dragged like hours before a woman in black uniform entered. She saluted Arrichion with her fist to her chest. "General Arrichion," she said crisply, "the Empress asks that you wait a little while. She will join you shortly."

Arrichion rose and returned the salute with flawless precision. "It is well, Vanguard Commander Annabeth," he replied. "We are early. Do not concern yourself... we will wait."

Annabeth bowed and withdrew, leaving them in the cavernous stillness of the hall.

Nearly half an hour passed before the back doors opened and she entered.

A woman of severe and striking beauty strode forward, her presence so commanding that the room itself seemed to contract around her. She carried an aura like a blade forged in the heart of a mountain... immovable, indomitable, honed by battles beyond counting. Her gait was effortless, the perfect midpoint between grace and discipline: not stiff, not relaxed, but taut as a drawn bowstring.

Her hair struck first... a deep, flowing, glossy white, the colour of glistening frost or a distant glacier. Thick and long, it was pulled back into a practical yet intricate braid that trailed between her shoulder blades, though a few loose strands had escaped to frame the sharp angles of her face.

Her features were sharp and elegant, with high cheekbones and a jawline carved in resolve. Her skin was pale, as though she had slumbered for centuries within a glacier, untouched by time or sun. But it was her eyes that broke through Eleanor’s composure... piercing white, like shards of moonstone or frozen starlight, clear and merciless. They held no warmth, only a penetrating intelligence that dissected flesh, bone, and soul alike. When they fell upon Eleanor, she felt less seen than measured, her every strength and weakness catalogued in an instant.

hardened leather, crafted for freedom of movement rather than for the trappings of power. A weathered leather harness crossed her

human general or master-at-arms. But to eyes that knew how to look, the illusions unravelled... the timeless sharpness of her face, the impossible precision of her movements, and the crushing weight of centuries lodged in

released from its bow. He saluted with a clenched

swiftly, she placed her palm over her

steps of the dais and seated herself


rang deep and resonant, each word striking

Grandmaster," Arrichion replied with solemn precision. "This is Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor. A werewolf who

"Good. Come here, girl."

her feet, carrying her smoothly towards the throne. Startled beyond measure, she almost cried out, but at the final moment clamped her jaw and mastered herself. The

burning like twin brands, "who are

mind faltered, but before such a figure there was no refuge, no room for silence. She forced the words out, her voice steady though her heart

human. I know nothing of my

by the Raynor Clan. But the reality was not that simple. You were already a hybrid before that. I believe an inexperienced Raynor turned you; had it been an elder, they would have immediately sensed your hybrid scent. You are lucky to be alive. Instead of

eyes lingered, calculating. Then she spoke again, "Give

the air before her, gleaming cold and sharp. She understood the unspoken command. Taking it gingerly, she pricked her finger. A crimson drop welled up, dark and

The drop lifted from Eleanor’s hand as if seized by an unseen tide, drifting slowly

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255