Chapter 35 Extinct Bloodline
The sun had long since set, and the library was now lit only by the warm glow of brass lamps. Piles of rejected books cluttered the tables like tombstones of dead theories.
Fennigan reached for the very last book in the stack. It was a crumbling, nondescript tome bound in gray hide that looked like it had survived a fire. The title on the spine had worn away centuries ago.
He opened it carefully, the binding cracking in protest. He flipped past pages of ancient genealogy and territory maps until he stopped near the end. His finger traced a faded illustration of a wolf surrounded by symbols of fire, water, earth, and air.
He went still.
"Mom," he said, his voice tight. "Leela. Listen to this."
Elana and Leela looked up from their respective piles.
Fennigan adjusted the lamp, squinting at the archaic handwriting.
"It mentions a specific sub-species," Fennigan read aloud. "A pack of 'Magical Lycans' that existed before the Great Wars. Unlike the physical shifters of today, these wolves were conduits for the raw energy of the world. They held every element in their control."
He paused, scanning the next paragraph. His expression darkened.
"They were thought to have been driven into extinction," he continued, his voice dropping an octave. "Not by hunters, but by their own kind. When the other packs realized what they were, every power-hungry Alpha in the continent grabbed them. They tried to have as many pups with them as possible, looking to breed children like the Lycan group to bolster their own armies."
Fennigan looked up, meeting Leela's eyes.
"But it didn't work. The magic was too specific, too delicate. Instead of creating an army of super-wolves, all they succeeded in doing was drowning out the bloodline. The trait was recessive. It needed two carriers to manifest."
He looked back down at the grim conclusion of the text.
"They were bred into extinction," Fennigan read. "By the time the Alphas realized their mistake, the pure bloodline was so diluted it vanished entirely. The Magical Lycans were lost to history."
The room went silent. The weight of the words hung heavy in the air.
Elana stood up slowly, walking around the table to look at the book over Fennigan’s shoulder.
"We always thought that was a myth," she whispered. "A cautionary tale about greed."
She looked at Leela—really looked at her—as if seeing a ghost.
"But if the bloodline wasn't destroyed..." Elana murmured. "If it was just dormant... hiding in the genetic code for generations, waiting for the stars to align..."
"Then she comes from a extinct werewolf line?," Fennigan finished, closing the book with a heavy thud.
He walked over to Leela, who was sitting frozen in her leather chair. He knelt before her, placing his hands on her knees.
"You're a resurrection, Leela," he said softly. "You're the spark that survived the drowning."
Elana walked around the table, her hand trailing over the leather-bound journals of her ancestors. She stopped in front of the large window, looking out into the darkness of the estate, her reflection ghostly in the glass.
"Why do you think my grandmother had the Earth Stone?" she asked quietly, not turning around. "Why do you think she knew how to craft a necklace to suppress energy that technically shouldn't exist?"
Fennigan frowned. "I thought it was just... old magic. Witchcraft."
Elana turned to face them, her eyes shining with a mixture of pride and fear.
"It wasn't witchcraft, Fennigan. It was heritage."
She walked back to them, placing her hand on the book Fennigan had just read.
"My family... we are part of that ancient line. We are the descendants of the ones who escaped the breeding programs. We survived by hiding, by diluting the blood just enough to pass as normal, by burying the magic deep until it was nothing but a whisper."
She looked at Leela, her expression softening.
"But sometimes... nature corrects itself. Sometimes the blood runs true."
She sighed, a heavy, burdened sound.
"I have to call the Elders," she stated, her voice regaining its Luna command. "They need to know about this. But," she raised a finger sternly, looking between her son and his mate, "this does not leave this room. Not yet."
She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"If word gets out that a true Elemental has returned—one who has fused with my grandmother's stone—every Alpha from here to the coast will come for her. History will try to repeat itself."
She reached out, cupping Leela’s face with one hand and Fennigan’s with the other.
"We will protect you. We will hide you in plain sight until you are strong enough to stand alone."
She smiled, looking between the two of them—the boy who had waited his whole life, and the girl who had survived against all odds.
"Because you, my lovely children," Elana said, her voice trembling with emotion, "you are going to be the future for that Lycan family long thought extinct. You are the beginning of the new world."