Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby-Chapter 314: To a Better Tomorrow
The scene shifted abruptly. Eleanor now saw five elderly men seated at a round table. At its head sat the white-bearded lord. Only one seat remained empty, directly opposite him.
The door opened, and the white-haired Priestess entered. She greeted the lord, then took the vacant seat.
"Priestess, we have been waiting for you. What is your opinion on today’s matter?" the Lord asked.
"I examined the patients," she replied. "There is no sign of plague or curse. But the protection granted to us by the gods... the very shield that allows us to live here is weakening. Those with lesser resistance to magic have fallen ill because of this. Especially the elderly and the children. Their souls cannot withstand the pressure of magic in Vanaheim."
The Lord frowned. "When the Goddess saved us from the giantess Rán and gave us a home here, she clearly said we would be under her protection. We never stopped offering tribute every Friday. What has changed?"
"This may be the result of the gods’ ongoing war," the Priestess said. "I have heard that giants and elves have also joined the conflict. The dwarves are being dragged in to forge weapons for both sides. Being the weakest race, humans are not part of the war. But as the Goddess of War, our protector may be at the forefront... or something may have happened to her."
She paused before continuing, "We are far from the front lines. There is no way to obtain accurate news. All we can do is pray to her and offer greater tribute."
An old man to her left spoke up. "I agree with the Priestess. We should arrange an extended prayer session until our Goddess hears us."
One by one, the others nodded their agreement.
The scene shifted again.
Eleanor now saw the inside of the temple clearly... unmistakably the same temple she currently occupied. Several women in white robes, like the Priestess, knelt before the statue, bowing again and again. Piles of grain, gold, and gleaming jewels lay at the Goddess’s feet. The city lord and several others had joined the prayer, kneeling behind the priestesses. Near the door, more than twenty unconscious people lay on the floor while two priestesses tended to them.
The main priestess pressed her forehead to the floor. "Goddess of Love, War, and Magic, please help your devoted subjects..."
She continued speaking, but the vision shifted again.
The town had grown desolate. More and more people were being carried into the temple. It seemed several days had passed.
The scene changed once more. Eleanor saw the townspeople leaving the settlement entirely, carrying the unconscious with them. They climbed into the mountain range and stopped beneath a waterfall.
Eleanor felt a jolt of recognition. The waterfall was familiar. She had seen it while travelling here... though the ice she remembered was far thicker then, and the vegetation now was far more abundant. Even the path they climbed matched the route she had taken, if she imagined the earth cleared and the mountains separated. Perhaps a landslide happened later, she realised.
While she wondered why the townspeople had gathered here, a blinding light burst across the sky.
A chariot descended into view.
The Goddess from the statue stood upon it. The chariot was drawn through the heavens by two immense cats whose fur was the grey of storm clouds. They moved with a silent, powerful grace.
The Goddess held reins spun from golden thread. Her cloak of falcon feathers shimmered in the brilliant light, and her necklace glittered like a constellation caught in the sun.
Below, the people looked up and immediately fell to their knees. They bowed low as the chariot descended onto the mountainside. The Goddess did not step down. Instead, she cast her spear toward the upper stream of the waterfall. It plunged into the stone beneath the rushing water with a ringing clang.
She looked down at the humans and spoke in a voice like a musical phrase resonating across stone and sky.
"Drink the water and be remade to wield my magic." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦
Without a heartbeat’s pause, the chariot vanished the way it had come.
Below, the astonished townspeople hurried to drink from the base of the waterfall. After quenching their own thirst, they lifted the unconscious and helped them drink as well.
Nothing happened at first. The people at the base began glancing at one another. A few minutes passed. Then, without warning, the Priestess collapsed onto the ground. Her body twisted violently and she let out a cry as though someone were snapping her bones one by one. It went on for several minutes before her form began to shift. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, she transformed into a majestic wolf.
She stared at the onlookers, who stared back in astonishment. Soon, the same change began to sweep through the townspeople. One by one they fell, cried out, and their bodies convulsed into new shapes. Panic rippled through them as many gave voice to frantic, bewildered cries.
The Priestess... now a white wolf, lifted her head and released a long, commanding howl. The other wolves froze where they were. The entire valley fell silent.
Eleanor recognised the howl instantly: the alpha asserting her dominance. The rest had no choice but to obey.
The whole gathering underwent the transformation. Bones flowed, lengthening, compacting, reshaping with the grinding rasp of stone and the bend of living willow. Muscle fibres slid and rewove themselves with terrifying, purposeful strength.
A pelt of fur... forest grey, mountain brown, and countless shades of white sprouted from pores that shed the last droplets of human sweat. Hands and feet arched into powerful paws, claws of dark keratin unsheathing from what had once been nails.
Their human consciousnesses were swallowed by a new, overwhelming layer of instinct: the pack-instinct, the hunt-instinct, the hard-edged territorial will. Yet under the alpha’s suppression, clarity gradually returned. Human reason rose again, becoming the steady observer in the storm of scents, images, and impulses.
As the final changes settled, the humans were gone. In their place stood a pack of majestic, formidable wolves, their eyes bright with fierce, intelligent light. The Priestess walked among them, then climbed onto a broad stone beside the basin where the stream’s water gathered.
The other wolves turned towards her as she released another howl. She began to speak in a beast’s tongue, yet Eleanor understood every word.
"We are no longer human, nor are we mere beasts. We, the Heitstrengingars, are now what the goddess calls the Werewolf. She has named us the Vánagandr Clan. We now bear the magic of the bond, the magic of the land, and the magic of the soul. To return to our human forms, we must submerge ourselves in the water." She stepped into the basin and slipped beneath the surface.
When she lifted her head from the water, she had already returned to her former human shape. As she walked out of the basin, the others followed in turn.
One after another, the wolves transformed back into their previous human forms.
At some point, the spear lodged in the upper stream broke free and tumbled into the basin. A soldier from the last group caught it before it struck anyone and carried it to the Priestess. She accepted the spear with a look of clear reverence.
Once everyone had returned to human, the Priestess stepped onto an elevated rock and surveyed the gathered crowd. The townspeople now stood invigorated and brimming with life—such a contrast to the drained, hollow state in which they had arrived.
The Priestess said, "Our forefathers escaped the cruel grasp of the giantess Rán under the protection of the Goddess. In Vanaheim we became the Heitstrengingar. We built Faydale, prospered together, and established a firm foothold in this land. Today, when we once again stood vulnerable, the Goddess saved us. Today, we have become Werewolves... we have become the Vánagandrs. The Goddess has granted us strong bodies, strong souls, and the ability to shift between our two forms at will."
She paused, sweeping her gaze across the crowd. "The Goddess of Love, War, and Magic shielded us with affection, lent us strength to free us from our doom, and bestowed upon us her blessing of magic."
She lifted the spear high, pointing it towards the sky. A bolt of lightning burst from its tip and vanished into the heavens.
Eleanor watched in amazement. So she has awakened the thunderbolt bloodline. Now I understand why I was brought to this desolate temple.
The Priestess continued, "The Goddess has blessed us with three Alphas. Besides myself, the Lord of Faydale and the Guard Commander have also ascended as Alphas. The rest of you are Betas. Among you, our soldiers have become Deltas, who will one day be formidable warriors. Our scholars have become Gammas, who will guide our clan with knowledge. A few among us have become Epsilons, gifted with agility, endurance, and heightened perception... perfect scouts for the days ahead."
She paused once more before saying, "But to wield such power, we must train and grow accustomed to our newfound strength. Let us use the gifts of our Goddess for the good of our clan. Let us return to Faydale... to a better tomorrow."
She released another howl. This time the entire pack joined her, their collective cry trembling through the valley. Eleanor watched them begin their walk back towards the town, the Priestess leading the way, the spear held firmly in her hand.
