Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

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 SuprGrandmaster Scathach. Never, not even in the wildest flight of her imagination, had

she thought she would one day set foot in DUn Scaith 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 frthe 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 tor 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.

She was tall, lean, and built like a weapon. Every line of her body, every motion, spoke of power held in reserve,

nothing wasted, nothing ornamental. Her clothing was simple... dark wool and hardened leather, crafted for

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

and her hands, though elegant, bore the hardened callouses of endless training, grips that could shatter stone as

easily as they held a sword.

At first glance, she might have passed for an extraordinarily disciplined 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 her gaze. She was a storm contained

within a human frame.

Arrichion rose in an instant, his back straight as an arrow released from its bow. He saluted with a clenched fist

and bowed deeply. "SuprGrandmaster!"

Eleanor needed no introduction. She knew very well who stood before her. Rising swiftly, she placed her palm

over her chest and bowed deeply... the gesture of a werewolf offering the highest reverence to an elder.

Scéthach advanced at the smeasured pace, her presence filling the hall like a tide. She climbed the steps of

the dais and seated herself upon the throne. The air itself seemed to shift in response, as though the stone walls

bent to acknowledge her authority.

"General Arrichion," her voice rang deep and resonant, each word striking the chamber like a tolling bell, "is this

the girl?"

"Yes, SuprGrandmaster," Arrichion replied with solemn precision. "This is Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor. A

werewolf who bears both the Mind Reaver and the Thunderbolt bloodline."

"Good. Chere, girl."

Eleanor had barely taken a step forward when the ground betrayed her. A plate of ice surged beneath 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 motion ceased at the base of the dais, leaving her standing

in the shadow of the seat.

"Girl," Scathach said, her amber eyes burning like twin brands, "who are your parents?"

The question struck Eleanor like a spear to the chest. Her throat tightened, her 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

twisted.

"My mother was human. | know nothing of my father."

"Interesting," murmured Scathach, her gaze narrowing. "According to your file, you were turned and awakened

by the Raynor Clan. But the reality was not that simple. You were already a hybrid before that. | 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 clashing, the two bloodlines merged. That is only possible if you carry within

you the echo of an original bloodline."

Her eyes lingered, calculating. Then she spoke again, "Givea drop of your blood."

Before Eleanor could move, a slender needle of ice materialised in 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 heavy.

Scathach extended one pale finger. The drop lifted from Eleanor’s hand as if seized by an unseen tide, drifting

slowly across the space to rest upon the SuprGrandmaster’s skin.

She lifted it to her lips, inhaled its scent, then let it touch her tongue. A moment later, she spat it violently aside.

The spittle froze mid-air, suspended for a breath, before shattering into a fine dust that scattered like powdered

glass.

Then, closing her eyes, Scathach grew still.

After a few moments, Scathach opened her eyes. A slow, knowing smile curved her lips.

I" f : [1 : :

Fascinating," she said, her voice

carrying the weight of revelation.

I"

You bear the potent royal blood of

the werewolves. The og

Brontesyghoscthe'f King of

WerBwolves, flows within you. How

curious that the Lychos Clan has

allowed you to roam freely among

humans. That can only mean they

are unaware of your existence. But

now that your Thunderbolt bloodline

has awakened, their knock will soon

" :

thunder at your door." The content is

on novelenglish.net! Read the latest

chapter there!

She paused, her eyes gleaming with

q " q

interest. "You cannot begin to grasp

how fortunate you are. One of your

parents, most likely your father... is of

the Lychos clan, a direct descendant

of Eryx himself. Your h man pather

made RY ahytirid, Bu our human

Bits dominated. Thus, your

Thunderbolt bloodline remained

dormant, veiled within fragile flesh.

You are alive today only because you

were turned by the Raynor Clan, who

lack any elemental affinity. Had

another clan attempted it... one with

elemental blood of their own, you

would have died in the

transformation. And yet, you not only

survived, you awakened the Mind

Reaver bloodline... proof of the purity

of your ancestral inheritance. How

q " q

extraordinary." The content is on

novelenglish.net! Read the latest

chapter there!

q ) q

Seeing Eleanor’s stunned expression,

Scathach leaned forward, her tone

softening into something

g . I"

conspiratorial, almost amused. "You

still do not understand, do You? fit

had bey a yampitewhd turned you,

ybuf body would already be dust.

Hybrids, when they have existed,

were always weak things... forced to

wield two elements that warred

against each other until both were

crippled. But you... you are different.

With the non-elemental Mind Reaver

to stabilise the Thunderbolt blood,

there is no clash. You could become

the most powerful lightning-wielder

n"

the world has ever known." The

content is on novelenglish.net! Read

the latest chapter there!

Eleanor’s throat had gone dry. Her lips parted but no sound came. She could only stare at the towering figure

upon the throne, her thoughts spiralling.

She had always taken pride in the strength of her mind, but mention of her parents unravelled that armour. They

had always been her deepest wound. Growing up amidst the treacherous Whitmore family, she had only

discovered the truth of her mother years later. Her father, meanwhile, remained a shadow... unknown,

untouchable. The knowledge that her mother had died in childbirth had been a scar that never healed.

Now, hearing that she was a hybrid... that her father might have carried the original Lychos bloodline... the

puzzle’s final piece slid into place. Her mother had died because her fragile human body was forced to bear

something it could not contain. In truth, the greater miracle was that Eleanor had survived at all. By rights, she

should have perished in the womb.

A bitter certainty hardened within her... her mother had not known her father’s true nature. It must have been no

more than a fleeting encounter, a night lost to passion or folly. The child that resulted had cost her life. Eleanor’s

hands clenched at her sides, anger simmering in her chest. He had kept his secret from her mother... hidden his

race, hidden the danger. At the very least, he could have taken precautions.

Her lips drew back slightly, and in the sanctuary of her thoughts a low growl coiled. Grrr...

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