Chapter 137: The Battlefield

Meredith.

I stood frozen in the middle of it all—fire, steel, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air like mist.

The sky above was burning red, torn with smoke. Wolves howled on both ends of the battlefield, but my eyes were fixed on only one figure.

A woman.

She was tall and unbending. She was cloaked in midnight-black armour, its edges trimmed in silver like a queen carved from starlight.

Her sword gleamed in her hand, and behind her, a line of wolves—hundreds—stood like statues, waiting for her command.

She turned her head slightly. And I gasped.

Her eyes were purple. Not soft like mine, but piercing. Otherworldly, alive.

The sound of her voice echoed in my ears like thunder.

"Charge."

The wolves lunged forward in unison, their snarls splitting the air. She sprinted ahead of them, sword gripped tight, her stride long and full of purpose.

When an enemy came at her—a massive, dark-coated wolf—she didn’t hesitate. One clean swipe. Its head rolled onto the bloodied grass.

The battle was brutal.

Bodies flew, teeth snapped, screams blended with snarls. The woman was merciless. Her blade moved with the ease of breath, cutting down anything that came too close.

Then... she shifted.

In one blink, the warrior woman melted into a colossal wolf, black as ink. Her jaws locked onto another wolf’s arm and tore it clean off. Blood sprayed. She didn’t stop.

She didn’t falter.

And then—just as suddenly—she shifted back. Naked beneath the moonlight, yet cloaked in power and blood, her purple eyes glowing like fireflies in the dark.

In front of her, a man knelt.

He was big—bigger than most—but his head was bowed like a child’s.

"Slit your throat," she commanded, her voice thundering in my ears as her purple eyes glowed.

Then he looked up into her eyes, as if spellbound.

"Do it," she said softly this time.

He obeyed.

The sword trembled in his hands as he lifted it to his neck. Then he dragged the blade across without blinking.

I flinched as blood poured like wine onto the ground, splattering her face.

The warrior woman didn’t blink. She watched the man fall into the pool of his own blood.

Then she turned, walked across the field of dead bodies and wolves, and raised her voice once more. "The battle is over. Return!"

The wolves, those who still stood, howled and followed.

---

My eyes snapped open.

My chest heaved. My nightdress clung to my skin with sweat, and my hands had a tremble to them. I stared up at the ceiling for a long time before I managed to sit up.

The room was quiet. The light in the lamp still burned faintly beside the bed. I blinked several times and slowly reached for the thick history book lying on my nightstand. Its weight was familiar now. The leather cover was still in good condition regardless of how many times I’ve opened it.

I flipped it open with trembling fingers and a confused mind.

That woman. The one in my dream... Could it have been her?

The Wolf Queen?

My fingers traced the edges of the text without really seeing it. She was known as the fiercest Alpha Queen in all of werewolf history—said to have been chosen by the moon itself. But no one ever said she had purple eyes.

Still... the woman I saw felt too real. Too detailed. The cold stare. The authority in her voice. The way blood didn’t faze her. The calm as death unfolded around her like it was merely part of the routine.

"I must be losing my mind," I whispered and dropped the book on my lap with a sigh.

It had to be the reading. I’d been so buried in her history lately, flipping through the same pages with every opportunity I had.

That’s all this was; just words weaving into my dreams.

Still... I found myself wondering about a few important things.

What did Queen Serena actually look like?

Was there a painting? A sketch? Anything?

Right there, I made a mental note to ask Draven if any image of her still existed because there was not one in the History book he gave to me.

Though I wasn’t sure why I wanted to know so badly.

Maybe it was curiosity.

Or maybe... I just needed to see if the face in my dream was truly hers—or mine.

---

I didn’t have the desire to go back to sleep anymore, so I buried all my attention in the book.

I need to finish a significant portion of it this morning, so I can finally have a deep conversation with Valmora immediately.

When Azul and the others walked into my room to wake me up, they were surprised to see me so buried in the book.

They didn’t disturb. They just went about doing a few chores around until Azul reminded me of the time.

"Give me a minute," I said, without meeting her gaze.

I flipped through the next page and glanced through it before moving on to the next.

It wasn’t until Azul’s reminder came for the third time that I was forced to put the book down.

I was so eager to complete it that I was willing to skip breakfast, but that wasn’t possible. I didn’t want to anger Draven as I still needed his help.

That man was too petty and could choose to punish me for the smallest reason.

As soon as I was dressed, I left my bedroom, in hopes that I would bump into Draven along the hallway, but it didn’t happen.

The corners of my lips turned downwards as I made my way into the dining hall.

My eyes lit up instantly, seeing the only figure in the room. Dennis.

His smile reached his eyes as soon as he turned and saw me.

"Good morning," I greeted and literally skipped over without caring about the glances the servants threw at me.

"Good morning." Dennis watched me sit before saying, "You are early today."

I nodded and looked across the table at the empty seats there. "And it seems like Miss Fellowes and her brother are running late today."

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