Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 204: The Celebration

The Helvellyn Clan claims the upper reaches of the Helvellyn massif in the Lake District, their hidden domain

stretching from the shadowed crags of Striding Edge to the glacial hollow of Red Tarn. Few outsiders ever

glimpse their true lair... a network of volcanic caves concealed by treacherous rockfalls and swirling mist. In

summer, they prowl the ridgelines where the wind masks their scent; in winter, they retreat to deep geothermal

caverns near Glenridding Beck, warmed by hidden hot springs.

In ancient times, they were known as Felllyn. The Vikings called them Cait Sidhe. In the modern tongue, they are

known simply as werecats.

The werecats have lived on Helvellyn’s slopes for centuries, blending the cunning of the hunter with the patience

of the predator. In earlier ages, they were whispered of as witch familiars and omens of death, blamed for the

vanished shepherd or the hiker who never returned. In truth, they defended their domain with unwavering

conviction, considering trespass not merely an intrusion, but an affront.

In modern times, they kill less openly. They are cautious now... aware that the human world has its own ways of

hunting. The Supernatural Act also restrains them from acting wantonly.

Werecats do not enjoy mingling with other races. Most live their entire lives within their underground city, rarely

seen beyond their territory. There are no recorded instances of outsiders visiting their home. Even with their

close ties to Clan Blanc, meetings are always held in nearby towns or neutral ground for the exchange of

techniques and knowledge.

On rare occasions, they establish selective contact with trusted locals to act as intermediaries. Sclan

members may choose to live among humans in Keswick or Ambleside for a time, usually for trade or other

specific purposes.

To the werecats, humans are short-lived and restless... quick to destroy what they do not understand. They are

neither wholly prey nor wholly ally... merely another species to be used, bargained with, or avoided depending

on the season. Their underground domain is entirely self-sufficient, eliminating the need for outside assistance.

For this reason, they do not socialise with other races as frequently as werewolves.

They are few in number. Within the kingdom, Helvellyn is the only werecat clan. While other clans exist in distant

regions, they have no central authority, unlike vampires or werewolves. Each clan lives unto itself.

Because of their withdrawn nature, despite having met almost every race in the world and every clan in the

kingdom... Fiona had never before encountered the Helvellyn Clan. She returned Winifred’s curtsy with a

symbolic bow and said, "You flatter me, Queen of the Helvellyn Werecats. The pleasure is mine."

"Oh? You knew?" Winifred arched a brow. "I don’t use the title of ‘queen’ outside my territory. | prefer to present

myself simply as a clan head, like the rest of you... it helpsstand out less. | thought no one here knew my

title apart from Dominic."

She paused, then added, "But | should have expected as much from the Ambassador of Werewolves. Your role is

to know such things. By the way, this is my youngest daughter, Lilith Winifred Helvellyn."

Standing slightly behind her mother, a young woman with light brown skin stepped forward and offered a precise

curtsy. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Raynor." Her voice was low and soft, but every supernatural being in

the hall heard her clearly. She was strikingly beautiful, her feline ears faintly visible even in human form, and she

wore a simple black gown devoid of any ornamentation. Beside her dazzling mother, she seemed almost

invisible... yet her presence lingered.

Fiona smiled. "Good. Good. You look exactly like your mother, save for your skin being a shade darker. I like your

presence." Gesturing to Eleanor, she said, "This is Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor... my granddaughter, and the future

head of the Raynor Clan. You appear to be of similar age. Why don’t you sit together? Edith, give them some

space, please."

Edith obligingly shifted to another chair, and Lilith seated herself beside Eleanor. Winifred, however, took a seat

next to Lionel Courtenay, who enthusiastically introduced himself before plying her with appetisers and drinks.

At that moment, the Gerymoore Clan from London arrived. At their head was George Gerymoore.

"I think we're late," he said aloud, though not to anyone in particular... and everyone heard him nonetheless.

He strode directly to the centre table and bowed respectfully to Fiona. "Greetings, Councillor. We are a little

behind schedule... hope you don’t mind."

Fiona chuckled. "No need for formalities. Today's party is a celebration for Clan Blanc. Please, enjoy yourself."

Dominic was already on his feet to greet the older werewolf. "Clan Head Gerymoore, welcome. Please sit and

enjoy the evening."

George glanced over the centre table, noting that it was occupied entirely by clan heads and alphas. Though he

did not know Winifred or her daughter, his long experience told him that these werecats held no less prestige

than the others. With a subtle gesture, he directed the elder woman accompanying him to take the seat beside

him, while signalling the rest of his people to find places elsewhere.

Juliette was right behind him, leading the Gerymoore Clan to the only empty table in the room, where they

promptly sat.

A few minutes later, Dominic Blanc rose to his feet and struck the rim of his glass with a spoon, the clear chime

carrying across the hall. The room fell silent.

"Thank you all for coming," he began. "Tonight, we celebrate the union of two capable youngsters of our clan,

Raphael and Laila. Please pray to the Goddess for their eternal happiness and love. We also celebrate the

strength of our bloodline... the honour brought to us by two others of our clan, Ophelia and Caspian, for their

recent success in the Grand Competition. Please pray to the Goddess for their success in life."

He lifted his goblet high. "To Raphael Blanc and Laila Blanc... may your bond be as unbroken as the moon's pull

on our blood. And to Ophelia Blanc and Caspian Blanc... may you return victorious from your trials. Now...

everyone... eat, drink, and celebrate!"

A chorus of howls erupted, echoing off the high ceiling. The werecats merely smiled, sipping their wine in silence.

Cheers rose, goblets clinked, and the long tables calive with the clatter of plates. Clan Blanc’s servers

moved quickly, setting down platters of venison, haunches of boar, smoked fish, roasted root vegetables

glistening with honey, and loaves of bread still warm from the oven.

Raphael and Laila began moving from table to table, greeting their guests.

"Drink!" Ciaran Raynor bellowed, slamming a goblet into Raphael's hand. "You're a husband now... cheers!"

Raphael smirked and drank deep, the blood wine burning warm in his chest.

Ciaran pressed another goblet into Laila’s hand. "Welcto our circle. You've chosen one of us. If he ever

bullies you, just call me. | will beat the crap out of him."

"Thank you," Laila replied. "Please take care of me."

At the centre table, Lionel Courtenay’s booming laughter rang out. "Clan Head! A toast to your success... and to

the night!" He raised his goblet towards Dominic Blanc.

Dominic returned the gesture. "To you as well... may our bond be as unbroken as the moon’s pull on our blood."

By the second course, the tables were thick with conversation. Old rivalries were smoothed over with feigned

courtesy, while hints of new alliances were exchanged between mouthfuls of meat.

As the night deepened, sguests

g )

slipped away to the hotel's upper

floor, seeking rest pS; theO Mm

Ee sired. he older wolves

ere the first to retreat, accepting

keys from Clan Blanc members. A

few young women followed, offering

polite goodnights. The content is on

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chapter there!

The younger wolves, however, showed no intention of leaving. One Courtenay clansman had gathered a circle

around him, spinning tales so outrageous that even the usually stoic werecats cracked a reluctant smile.

Raphael and Laila made their rounds, clasping hands, exchanging brief words with distant cousins and allied

wolves, ensuring they personally greeted every elder present.

Near midnight, the music began... a

wild, pounding rhythm that quickened

the blood. Raphael and Laila togkthe

floor for heir first dHoke, their

inte graceful and practised.

Laila then danced with Dominic, as

tradition required. Since Laila had no

immediate family present, Raphael

was spared from dancing with

others. The content is on

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chapter there!

The floor soon opened to all. Clan Blanc led the way, their movements a mix of human elegance and something

older... hips rolling, steps sharp and precise. Other clans joined, filling the space with their own styles.

The werecats entered after a time, their motions sinuous and fluid, weaving through the wolves like shadows

moving through torchlight.

Before long, the dancing turned into a friendly contest among the younger guests, each trying to outdo the

others with speed, precision, or daring.

When the final note faded, Dominic rose again, striking his glass like a bell. The curtains had already been drawn

back, and through the high windows the full moon shone silver and cold.

The hall grew still. Dominic partially

shifted, his head taking the form of a

wolf, and loosed theffics) haw Fiona

filaweltvith L Seen, resonant call,

and then the others joined... a chorus

that shook the floor and rattled the

lanterns. The content is on

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chapter there!

The werecats did not howl, but they stood silently, eyes bright, acknowledging the primal ritual.

The sound carried far beyond the hotel, across the frozen fields and forests, where lesser creatures stirred and

fled.

When the last echoes faded, the clan heads and senior members withdrew to their rooms, guided by Clan Blanc

attendants. Only the younger guests remained to carry the revelry into the small hours.