Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby
Chapter 128: Blessed by the Moon Goddess

Chapter 128: Blessed by the Moon Goddess

Tara Harivamsa clasped her hands in front of her chest, bowed her head respectfully to the priestess, and said, "Lady Rashmika, sorry to bother you. This is Miss Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor, the Young Miss of the Ambassador Clan. The Reverend One is expecting her. I was asked to bring her to you."

"Okay. Thank you, Apprentice Tara Harivamsa. You may leave now," Rashmika replied with a small nod.

As Tara turned to exit the room, Rashmika called out, "Wait."

She then turned her attention to Eleanor and said, "Miss Raynor, may I ask that your companions wait outside for a moment? Tara will accompany them while you have your meeting."

Although slightly surprised, Eleanor didn’t let it show on her face. With a calm tone, she said, "Of course. You two, please wait with Miss Tara for the time being."

From Eleanor’s shadow, two figures silently emerged... Sebastian and Isadora. She hadn’t brought Maya with her; Maya had been left behind to attend to other matters. Both members of Eleanor’s shadow team bowed respectfully before stepping toward Tara, who was visibly shocked. She had accompanied Eleanor the entire time yet hadn’t sensed either of them.

Rashmika turned to Tara and said gently, "You may wait outside now. Miss Raynor will join you shortly."

The three of them exited and once the room was quiet, Rashmika turned to Eleanor with a composed expression. "Miss Raynor, please remain steady. I’m going to open a dimensional door."

"All right," Eleanor replied, intrigued. This was the first time she would witness dimensional magic in action.

Rashmika took out a small, lustrous magic stone. Holding it like a quill, she began to draw intricate circular runes in the air while chanting a soft incantation under her breath. The air shimmered, and one by one, six exquisite golden runes formed, glowing with such brilliance that the entire room lit up like high noon.

With precise movements, Rashmika reached out and pulled a rune to the center as though it were tangible, then another, stacking it over the previous. She repeated the process until all six runes had merged into a single radiant point. The golden light began to shift, softening into a soothing silver glow. Then, where the runes had floated, a doorway appeared... tall and graceful, revealing a vision of a garden bursting with life beyond its threshold.

"Miss Raynor," Rashmika said with a small bow, "please enter. The Reverend One is waiting for you."

"Thank you," Eleanor said, stepping forward without hesitation.

As Eleanor crossed the threshold into another dimension, her senses were immediately embraced by the intertwine perfume of flowers. The air shimmered with scents... sweet jasmine, earthy marigold, and the rich fragrance of roses and hibiscus mingled together like nature’s own incense. Bougainvillea vines fluttered on a gentle breeze, their papery magenta bracts dancing like butterflies.

The garden spread out in gentle terraces carved into the slope of a ridge. Stone paths, inlaid with intricate pebble mosaics, curved between beds of golden sunflowers and Parijat trees, whose delicate white blossoms blanketed the ground like fallen stardust. The soft hum of bees mingled with the distant song of birds.

Lotus flowers bloomed from still ponds framed in sandstone. Dragonflies hovered above the water, their wings shimmering like fragments of crystal. Palash trees, ablaze with orange-red flowers, framed the eastern edge of the garden. Their twisting branches cast patterns of light and shadow across the grass like sacred art drawn by sunlight.

Eleanor walked slowly, her fingertips brushing through the soft fronds of lemongrass and lavender. She passed basil and tulsi plants tucked into corners, their presence grounding and sacred. In the distance, a small stone pavilion peeked out from beneath neem and gulmohar trees, their foliage mixing fiery reds with vivid greens.

Everything here felt divine.

Tiny prayer wheels turned gently in the breeze, their golden rims etched with mantras. Delicate terracotta bells, strung from branches of ancient peepal trees, chimed softly, as if greeting her in reverence. Birds flitted from tree to tree... sunbirds, hoopoes, magpies, parrots... and even a regal peacock dragging his iridescent tail along the stone path, unhurried and majestic.

Eleanor paused, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. The serenity soaked into her, melting away the weight of augean stables. This place did not feel made by human hands. It felt like the Moon Goddess herself had woven it... each bloom, each breeze, placed with purpose and prayer.

When she opened her eyes again, she continued toward the ridge, each step quiet and deliberate. The earth beneath her feet felt softer here, as though the land itself welcomed her presence.

There, at the crest of the slope, bathed in golden light, stood Sarika Somavati Harivamsa.

The Priest of the Werewolves!

She stood still, serene, as if rooted in divine essence. She wore a single clothed robe of white Kashmir silk that flowed like moonlight... each fold catching the sun, each shimmer a whisper from the heavens. The robe which is called saree clung to nothing and yet revealed everything: grace, purity, and calm authority.

Her long silver hair flowed freely, adorned only with a single braid tied with a silver thread. Her eyes... dark, still, and impossibly wise... looked out over the garden as if seeing beyond this world and into another.

The moment Eleanor saw her, the world seemed to slow. It wasn’t just beauty that held her still... it was reverence. A force that made her lungs hesitate, her steps slower, her heart thrum with a forgotten ache.

The flowers near the ridge bloomed more vividly, their petals opening as if to salute. The birds didn’t just sing... they offered praises. Even the wind softened its voice, caressing Sarika’s figure with tender awe, not daring to disturb the sacred air that surrounded her.

Eleanor felt the presence of the Moon Goddess in her... raw, pure, and impossibly vast... surrounding Sarika like an aura of living light. She had seen powerful people, magical beings, and divine descendants in her life. But this was the first time she felt like a child standing before the mother of the world.

Eleanor felt as though she wasn’t just looking at a person but at a symbol, an embodiment of divine grace woven into mortal form. Awe swept through her like a rising tide. This woman, this priestess, carried a presence so profound it could bring hardened generals to their knees and make even the most cynical souls believe in miracles. It wasn’t the display of magical aura that Sarika exuded; it was a deep, tranquil spiritual authority... an aura that needed no justification.

She was the kind of woman the world did not create often... and certainly never by accident.

In that moment, Eleanor felt humbled to her core. Her years of calculated planning, carefully constructed strategies, and the composed image she wore like armor... all of it felt insubstantial. It was as if her accomplishments were whispers in the presence of a sacred song. Her steps slowed further, her heartbeat echoing softly in her ears, as if to remind her to tread gently in such sanctity.

She finally exhaled, her thoughts barely more than a whisper within her own mind:

"She’s not just respected... she’s revered."

After drawing a deep breath to steady herself, Eleanor took another step forward.

The priestess, Sarika Somavati Harivamsa, stood motionless. The moment her eyes settled on Eleanor’s face, a flicker of recognition passed through her expression. A few days ago, this young woman had appeared in one of her visions, standing beside a child of immense potential.

"This woman will shake the world in near future," Sarika recalled with quiet certainty.

"My clan must never provoke her... not even by accident."

Still caught in thought, she weighed her words with care. Just then, Eleanor stepped closer, stopping a respectful distance away.

She placed her palm over her heart, bowed slightly at the waist, and said with calm reverence, "Junior Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor pays her respects to her senior, the Priest of Werewolves... the Reverend One."

Sarika returned to the present, her eyes softening as she looked at the beautiful young woman standing before her, showing such sincerity. She smiled and replied, "Welcome to the ancient temple of the werewolves, Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor. You are the last of the ten successors in line of the council clans to offer respect to our ancestors."

She gestured for Eleanor to step closer. "Come. I have something for you."

From within the folds of her robe, Sarika produced a delicate Moonstone Necklace, the gem at its center shimmering like captured moonlight. With great care, she clasped it around Eleanor’s neck.

"This necklace," she said gently, "is carved from an ancient Moonstone. It will help calm your thoughts and temper your inner storms. It won’t erase your emotions, but it will soften them... giving you clarity when you most need it. Wear it well, and let it guide you."

Eleanor bowed once more and said sincerely, "Thank you for your kindness. This is a precious gift."

She lifted her hand briefly to touch the pendant. It was cool against her skin, but oddly comforting. There was something felt alive within it... something that pulsed gently, as if the stone itself breathed in rhythm with her.

Curiosity drew her gaze around the lush garden once again. She realized she hadn’t seen any grand structure or temple... no stone sanctum or carved altar. Just this timeless garden filled with sacred energy.

Sarika noticed her searching eyes and said, "Do not look for walls or rooftops. You are already inside the temple."

She gestured around them. "This pocket dimension is the ancient temple of the werewolves. The spirits of our ancestors rest here. This Is the oldest sanctified space our kind has preserved... a living monument, not built by hands but nurtured by faith. Many of our ancestors were buried beneath this soil. Every flower, every stone, every whisper of wind bears their will."

Eleanor’s expression turned solemn.

"I brought you here to pay your respects," Sarika continued. "It is a sacred rite we ask of those who hold the future of our kind. All that is required is this... place three drops of your blood in that pond and bow three times."

She pointed toward a nearby pond, its surface dotted with lilies and glowing faintly in the soft garden light.

Eleanor walked forward without hesitation. She drew a thin blade from her belt and made a small cut on her finger. Three drops of blood fell into the pond, dissolving instantly into the water.

She then bowed deeply, once... twice... and a third time.

Rising, she spoke clearly, her voice steady, "Ancestors of the werewolves, I... Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor... have come to offer my respect. Please bless me with your guidance and strength."