Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby novel Chapter 313

Chapter 313: A Small Town

When Eleanor opened her eyes, a ray of sunlight struck directly into them. For a moment she saw nothing but blinding white. As soon as she shifted, the beam slipped away and the world came into focus. With it came clarity of mind... memory returning in a rush.

Sunlight poured through the high window, filling the temple with a warm, diffuse glow. A broad column of gold-flecked air shimmered with drifting motes of dust, dancing like slow, celebratory spirits. It fell first upon the honeyed oak floorboards, worn smooth along a path from the door to the plinth, polished by generations of devoted feet. The grain ran deep and intricate, whorls and darker rivers of wood holding the silent stories of the tree’s own long life.

The walls, which had seemed little more than shadowy stone last night, now revealed themselves as carefully laid fieldstone... shades of granite and moss-rock bound with ancient mortar. Here and there, tiny, stubborn ferns had rooted between the stones, their vivid green fronds startling against the grey. The roof tiles gleamed almost emerald under the morning light. The heavy oak door showed the true richness of its wood, and the iron fittings displayed delicate scrollwork untouched by rust, their intertwining curves recalling, to Eleanor’s eye, vines... or perhaps serpents.

But the statue held her attention completely. The statue of the Goddess!

She was carved from amber-hued granite with veins of rosy quartz and specks of white mica that caught the sun and glimmered with a muted fire. She looked like the queen of earth and sky.

Majestic and formidable, she stood tall with a slight, powerful twist to her torso, as though she had just turned to address a newcomer. One hand rested upon her hip, above the elegant fall of a carved skirt. Her fingers were strong and capable. The other hand held a spear, grounded beside her... its shaft as thick as Eleanor’s wrist, its leaf-shaped blade etched with patterns that echoed the ironwork on the temple door.

Her face was beautiful, filled with passion and grief. Her full lips were set in a line of calm determination... not a smile. Her wide-set eyes, beneath strong arched brows, gazed into the middle distance with an expression of formidable wisdom. They seemed to hold the weight of stories of love both fiercely won and bitterly lost.

The necklace at her throat was a breathtaking marvel of artistry. Each link was a tiny bead shaped like a teardrop, carved from a smoother, darker basalt that caught the light with a soft sheen, giving the necklace a commanding presence against the warm granite of her skin.

At her feet sat two massive identical cats hewn from speckled grey stone. They were upright and alert, forelegs straight, broad chests lifted. Their ears were pricked, and their faces carried a watchful intelligence.

A cloak was carved as though thrown back from her shoulders, its inner lining adorned with an exquisitely delicate filigree of feathers. Each feather was smaller than Eleanor’s fingernail, layered in a cascading sweep of texture, suggesting either the gift of flight or the soft plumage of a falcon.

Eleanor rose and slowly walked before the Goddess. She felt like an intruder in a private audience. The goddess stood there not as a symbol but as a presence... carved from stone, yes, but radiating an authority that stirred a deeper awe in her heart.

She followed the instructions drilled into her at the academy. She placed her right hand over her left chest and bowed properly.

"I, Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor, have come seeking guidance from the Goddess. Please bestow upon me the wisdom needed to face the coming trials."

Eleanor waited for a few seconds. Nothing happened. She straightened her posture and waited patiently. Minutes passed without response.

"Did I come to the wrong temple?" Doubt crept into her mind.

After what she estimated to be more than twenty minutes, she decided to go all out. If she failed to receive a cultivation technique here, she would fail the trial entirely and be forced to rely on simple techniques. Her future would be permanently barred.

She slowly walked toward the statue and lightly touched its feet. Her vision went blank in an instant. The moment hung suspended in her mind for an unknowable span.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw a small town full of humans. They were busy with their daily lives. Her vision drifted from place to place. She saw whitewashed houses with red-tiled roofs. Women in white robes ground grain near hearths, cooked flatbread over open fires, or washed clothes in stone basins. Children ran through the dirt streets, laughing as they played. The scenes were both familiar and strange.

Her sight shifted to the fountain at the town’s edge. A few women, their hair draped with white cloths, filled their pots with water. Nearby, two old men sat on a stone bench, playing a game resembling chess, their debate as heated as the sun.

A farmer pushed a cart of vegetables toward the market square. A potter shaped a jar on a spinning wheel. A blacksmith hammered glowing metal on an anvil.

"No one is dead yet. They are all unconscious. Please take your relatives back to your homes and watch over them. I do not know whether this is a plague or a curse. I need time to give you a definite answer," the woman said.

The bearded man then raised his voice in command. "Faydale will enter an emergency period immediately. No citizen is to leave their home. Your rations will be delivered to you. City guards will patrol the streets. They will be your point of contact if you require assistance." 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

He paused, then added, "Commander Fenwick, you know what to do."

An armoured middle-aged man stepped forward and saluted. "Yes, my Lord."

He walked toward a nearby house, slightly larger than the others. The crowd bowed as he passed. Once he had gone, the woman said, "Commander Fenwick, send those who have no one to care for them to the temple."

"Yes, Priestess," the commander replied, offering another salute.

The woman turned and walked towards a temple at the side of the square.

Eleanor felt a sudden, uncanny sense of familiarity. "This temple... this is the temple I’m in right now. It looked shabby when I arrived, and the town around it was in ruins... but even at night, the outline was unmistakably similar. Perhaps all temples in Vanaheim share the same design... but the layout of this town, sitting in the middle of the plains, matches exactly. The likelihood that this is the same place is high."

Her thoughts spun. "If this is the same town... then I’m seeing it before it was destroyed. But why?"