Chapter 60

Chapter 60
Chapter 60

After spending nearly an hour bathing and getting dressed, I felt more like myself—or at least, more like the version of myself I recognized. The warm water had helped ease the remaining tension in my muscles, and putting on fresh clothes made me feel more prepared to face whatever answers awaited me.

I had just finished braiding my hair when three soft knocks came at my door.

"Come in," I called, expecting to see Edward.

Instead, three people I'd never met before entered my room. Two women and one man, all appearing to be in their forties or fifties, with the kind of quiet dignity that spoke of wisdom and authority. They wore simple but well-made clothing in earth tones, and each bore a small pendant around their neck—a symbol I didn't recognize but that seemed significant.

"Good afternoon," the eldest of the women said, her voice gentle but formal. "We've come to escort you to the council chamber. The elders are ready to meet with you."

My stomach fluttered with nerves. "Of course. Thank you."

The walk through the castle corridors felt longer than it probably was. My escorts didn't make conversation, but they weren't unfriendly—more like they understood the gravity of whatever was about to happen and respected my need for quiet preparation.

We stopped before a set of heavy wooden doors carved with intricate symbols that seemed to shift and dance when I wasn't looking directly at them. One of my escorts knocked three times, paused, then knocked twice more.

"Enter," came a voice from within.

The council chamber was larger than I'd expected, with high vaulted ceilings and tall windows that let in streams of afternoon sunlight. Ancient tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes I couldn't quite make sense of—figures with glowing eyes, forests that seemed alive, battles between creatures that looked more like myths than reality.

But what drew my attention immediately were the people waiting for me. Edward stood to one side, offering me an encouraging smile. His mother sat in a chair nearby, looking nervous but supportive. Miriam was there too, her expression kind but serious.

And then there were the elders—five of them, seated in high-backed chairs arranged in a semicircle. They were older than I'd expected, their faces lined with years of wisdom and experience. Each wore robes in different colors—deep blue, forest green, rich purple, golden yellow, and pure white—and the same mysterious pendants I'd seen on my escorts.

"Please, sit," said the elder in white robes, gesturing to a single chair that had been placed facing their semicircle.

I walked forward on unsteady legs, acutely aware that every eye in the room was on me. The chair felt like it was miles away, and by the time I reached it and sat down, my heart was pounding so hard I was sure everyone could hear it.

"Welcome, child," the white-robed elder continued, her voice warm despite the formal setting. "I am Elder Celestine. We are grateful you've come to speak with us."

The other elders introduced themselves in turn—Elder Marcus in blue, Elder Thorne in green, Elder Vivian in purple, and Elder Solomon in yellow. Each nodded as their name was spoken, but I could feel their intense scrutiny, as if they were seeing far more than just my physical appearance.

"We understand you have questions about what happened during the welcome ceremony," Elder Celestine said. "About the changes you experienced."

"Yes," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need to understand what's happening to me."

Elder Marcus leaned forward slightly. "Before we can provide answers, we need to understand more about you. About your background, your family. Tell us, what are the names of your parents?"

The question seemed simple enough, though I couldn't understand why it mattered. "My father was Harry, and my mother was Sarah Blackwood, née Morrison."

The reaction was immediate and unexpected. Elder Thorne's eyes widened, and he sat back in his chair as if I'd struck him. Elder Vivian made a small sound of surprise. But it was Elder Solomon who spoke, his voice sharp with accusation.

"You're lying."

I stared at him in shock. "Excuse me?"

"Those are not your parents' names," Elder Solomon continued, his yellow robes seeming to glow in his agitation. "I can sense deception, child. Do not attempt to mislead us."

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I felt my wolf stir with indignation. "I'm not lying," I said, my voice stronger now. "Those are my parents' names. I should know—they raised me."

"But they did not birth you," Elder Solomon shot back.

The words hit me like a physical blow. "What are you talking about? Of course they did. I'm their daughter."

Elder Celestine held up a hand, her expression troubled. "Solomon, perhaps we should—"

"No," he interrupted. "She needs to face the truth. The bloodline doesn't lie, and neither do the signs. Look at her—the red hair and eyes during the transformation, the power emanating from her even now. She is not the child of simple werewolves."

My mind reeled. Not their child? It was impossible. I had memories, photographs, stories of my childhood. I looked like my mother—everyone had always said so.

"I think," Elder Marcus said carefully, "that what our colleague is trying to say is that there are aspects of your parentage that were hidden from you."

Elder Vivian nodded agreement. "I believe the child is telling the truth as she knows it," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "But there are clearly things about her heritage that she was never told."

"Precisely," Elder Celestine said. "Which brings us to why we asked you here today."

My hands began to shake. This was too much, too impossible. Extinct powers, hidden parentage—it sounded like something out of a fairy tale, not my life.

"There are truths you need to know," Elder Celestine said, her voice gentle but implacable. "About your real heritage, about the circumstances of your birth, about the abilities that are awakening within you. The red hair and eyes were just the beginning—"

"No." The word escaped me before I could stop it. I shot to my feet, my chair clattering backward. "No, this is insane. I'm just a werewolf. I'm just... I'm just me."

"Child, please—" Elder Marcus began.

But I was already backing toward the door, panic rising in my throat like bile. "You're wrong. All of you. My parents were Harry and Sarah Blackwood. I'm their daughter. I'm a werewolf from Silver Creek pack, nothing more."

The elders were all talking now, some trying to calm me, others arguing among themselves about how much to reveal and how quickly. Their voices blended into a cacophony that made my head spin.

"You cannot run from what you are," Elder Solomon called out, his voice cutting through the chaos. "The power within you will not be denied. The sooner you accept the truth—"

I didn't wait to hear the rest. I turned and bolted from the room, my heart hammering against my ribs. Behind me, I could hear Edward calling my name, the elders still arguing, footsteps starting to follow.

But I was faster, driven by pure panic. I ran through corridors that blurred together, past startled residents who called out in concern, up staircases and around corners until I reached the familiar door of my room.