Werewolf

　　Elaine's face was etched with disbelief as she struggled to grasp the revelation that her true identity was that of a werewolf.
　　She had always believed that she only needed to endure a period of time to regain her freedom, but the current situation left her feeling overwhelmed and lost.
　　It was as if a giant gear was turning in the darkness, and her fate was tied to it, leading her toward an uncertain future.
　　Her thoughts were heavy as she gazed down at the glowing ancestral emblem, feeling her heart constrict with fear.
　　"Get ready," Sherman commanded, his tone cold and impatient, "The ceremony will be held tonight."
　　Without another glance, he turned and strode out of the room, leaving Elaine reeling in confusion.
　　"Ceremony? What ceremony?" She called after him, but he did not respond.
　　Duke, who was guarding the exit, bowed respectfully to Sherman before nodding to Elaine.

　　After that fateful day, Elaine hardly saw Sherman and there was always a girl named Cheryl in her room to check on her body.
　　Cheryl told Elaine a lot about the rules of werewolf society.
　　"In short, you'd better not disobey Mr. Holmes. He doesn't take kindly to it," Cheryl said, winking at Elaine as she packed her medical kit. "There was a man who contradicted Mr. Holmes, and I never saw him again."
　　Cheryl was a lively and enthusiastic girl, with a healthy wheat-colored complexion and sparkling eyes.
　　She always had an energetic presence, like a little sun. During the few days of treatment, Elaine's body had recovered significantly, and she also felt a long-lost warmth from Cheryl.
　　"Thank you, Cheryl," Elaine said, flashing a genuine smile and arching her eyebrows. Cheryl looked at Elaine's bright purple eyes and couldn't help but freeze.
　　"What's wrong? Is there something on 

　　Elaine awoke groggily as the golden sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating her face.
　　She squinted, her head pounding and her mind foggy, as if she had just had a long long dream about endless power coursing through her body.
　　Just as she was drifting back into her dream, she heard a voice speaking nearby and quickly closed her eyes.
　　"Mr. Holmes, Miss Morgan has suffered enough. If there is any more stimulation, her spirit will break. Perhaps we should give her more time to recover," said a girl, her tone respectful as she addressed Sherman.
　　"Enough, Cheryl. That's not for you to decide. Mr. Holmes has his own ideas," Duke interjected rudely.
　　"I know, but I just want to ensure that when her body recovers, we can proceed with our plans effectively," Cheryl replied, still sounding a little unsure.
　　Duke and Cheryl's conversation was cut short as Sherman, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "You may leave now." The room grew colder as Duke and Cheryl quickly left the room.
　　Elaine kept her eyes tightly closed, but she could sense Sherman's presence.
　　"You may open your eyes now," he said, his familiar musky scent filling the room.
　　Elaine knew that he had been aware of her wakefulness all along.
　　As Elaine opened her eyes, she was met with the sight of a tall figure sitting on the edge of the bed, his deep eyes fixed upon her. It was none other than Sherman.
　　Feeling a sense of unease, Elaine sat up and subconsciously shrank back, using the covers to shield her exposed skin as she looked warily at Sherman and muttered thoughts to herself.
　　"What else does this man want to do to me?"
　　Sherman's words were cold and unyielding as he spoke, "Get dressed and come with me."
　　It was clear that he did not feel the need to explain himself or show any concern.
　　Elaine then noticed a blue dress on the bed. Then Sherman got up and walked out, closing the door behind him.
　　Elaine sat frozen, watching his distant figure as memories of his rough and unsympathetic movements from the night before came flooding back.
　　She bit her lip, her heart rising with mixed emotions.
　　Suddenly, a servant girl's greeting could be heard at the door, panic with a hint of surprise.
　　"Good day, Mr. Holmes."
　　It was clear that from the time they had entered the castle, they had never seen Sherman guard anyone's door before.
　　Sherman gave a nod in response and Elaine could not help but think of his disdainful, annoyed expression.
　　Picking up the dress that Sherman had left on the bed, Elaine put it on and was relieved to find that it fit perfectly.
　　Elaine pushed open the door and found Sherman standing not far away. His gaze instantly became hot as he saw Elaine, but he quickly looked away again. However, the scene was still captured by Elaine.
　　"This way," Sherman said, turning around and not seeming to care about Elaine's expression. He walked towards the depths of the corridor.
　　Elaine took a deep breath and followed behind Sherman tamely.
　　The castle was a bit too big for her and she had tried to remember the turns and stairs she had taken in case Sherman left her alone.
　　However, the corridor was getting narrower and narrower, with several exaggerated gilt wolf head reliefs on both sides and ancient wall lamps hanging around, glowing with a blue light.
　　Elaine remembered when she first came to this castle, the Duke had instructed her not to walk freely in the castle, probably worried that she would walk into somewhere she shouldn’t enter.
　　As she walked, Elaine felt her heart beat louder and louder as the sound of their footsteps rose and fell in the quiet space.
　　Just when she was about to faint from nerves, Sherman suddenly stopped.
　　In front of him was an unobtrusive wooden door, and instead of pulling out a key, Sherman just reached out and waved his hand on the handle. After a flash of blue light, the door was pulled open from the inside.
　　Sherman gracefully stepped into the room and stood in the doorway, propping his hand against the door in a gentlemanly manner as he waited for Elaine to enter. As Elaine just stepped into the room, the door slammed shut, sending dust raining down upon her head. It was clear that the room had not been entered in quite some time.
　　Sherman walked ahead, and the dim room suddenly brightened. Elaine couldn't help but look around in curiosity. The room appeared to be at the bottom of the castle and the narrow wooden door seemed out of place in the expansive space. In the distance, there was a hint of light and Elaine could barely make out the shape of stone cabinets on the floor.
　　The air was thick with the dampness of the earth and an unfamiliar woodsy aroma. On the nearby wall, there was a relief of a wolf's head similar to the one outside, but in this room, the relief was more lifelike, as if it were about to leap out of the wall at any moment.
　　Sherman walked ahead with familiarity and as he passed by, he would casually touch various objects on either side of the road. He would turn a vase or adjust a knight's sword, and with each action, the scene before them would change and open up anew.
　　Elaine trailed behind for a while, her eyes drawn to the intricate and complex reliefs adorning the walls. Images of werewolves were prevalent, depicting battles and conflicts between them and their arch-enemies, the hunters, with men wielding revolvers and wide-brimmed hats. The reliefs stretched for dozens of meters, each one showcasing a different battle.
　　As she gazed upon the werewolves standing atop a mountain, howling at the moon, Elaine couldn't help but feel a sense of majesty. They appeared victorious, like generals basking in their glory.
　　Sherman led Elaine to the center of the standing stone cabinet, where she found herself in a small square, surrounded by a myriad of strange objects. Among them were a heart pierced by a silver bullet, a bloody wolf's tooth, and even a human arm adorned with intricate tattoos.
　　"That's the arm of the Commander of the Hunters," Sherman said with a hint of pride in his voice, "a trophy of my grandfather's."
　　At the sight of the human arm, Elaine felt a wave of terror wash over her. Her stomach churned and her face paled as she struggled to hold onto the stone cabinet next to her to keep from falling over.
　　"Now take this," Sherman said, offering her a thing.
　　Sherman led Elaine to a stone table that was clearly larger than the others in the circle. Upon it sat a broken iron piece, carved with two withered roses and a broken sword running through the middle of the roses. Petals were scattered about the sides.
　　Elaine felt a strange pull towards the iron piece, and her hand reached out to touch it without her realizing. But as soon as her fingertips made contact, the iron piece's surface was covered in tiny sharp barbs that cut her fingers.
　　Elaine cried out in pain as her fingers recoiled and blood dripped onto the iron piece.
　　Suddenly, the iron piece began to vibrate and emit a dazzling purple light. The pattern on the iron piece changed, with the surrounding petals gathering in the center. The blood in contact with the rose rejuvenated the flower, and the broken sword slowly repaired itself at a speed visible to the naked eye, until it became a sharp longsword.
　　Elaine was stunned by the sight before them. Sherman’s eyes brightened with a strange light of excitement. He grabbed Elaine's arm suddenly.
　　Sherman's gaze was fixed on Elaine, and she felt a sense of unease. "What, you're hurting me," she said, as she struggled to free herself from his strong grip.
　　"This is the ancestral emblem of the Valentine pack, and only the blood of the werewolves of the Valentine pack can bring it to life," Sherman explained calmly.
　　Elaine was confused, feeling that his next words would change her life forever.
　　"That is to say, you are a werewolf," Sherman said, and Elaine's mind went blank.
　　"How do you know?" Elaine asked, still struggling to accept what she was hearing.
　　"My mother is a werewolf of the Valentine pack, and she has the same purple eyes as yours," Sherman said, and a tenderness that Elaine had never seen before passed through his eyes when he mentioned his mother.
　　"No, this can't be!" Elaine exclaimed, taking a few panicked steps back and nearly knocking over a nearby stone bench.
　　"It's nothing impossible. Your purple eyes, and the strength you showed last night all prove that there was werewolf blood in your veins. That's also why I chose you," Sherman said, smiling at Elaine's flustered expression.
　　Elaine was frozen in place, shaking her head mechanically, her mouth repeatedly shouting "no." Elaine suddenly realized that his rudeness last night was just to stimulate the power inside her blood. Meanwhile, Elaine also knew why this man, the Alpha of Bostabaca had chosen her. The child destined to be the next Alpha of the Bostabaca pack needed to have the most powerful combination of bloodlines—ideally the blood from a powerful pack. But a breeder was just a tool—used once, and then thrown away.

　　Elaine's face was etched with disbelief as she struggled to grasp the revelation that her true identity was that of a werewolf.
　　She had always believed that she only needed to endure a period of time to regain her freedom, but the current situation left her feeling overwhelmed and lost.
　　It was as if a giant gear was turning in the darkness, and her fate was tied to it, leading her toward an uncertain future.
　　Her thoughts were heavy as she gazed down at the glowing ancestral emblem, feeling her heart constrict with fear.
　　"Get ready," Sherman commanded, his tone cold and impatient, "The ceremony will be held tonight."
　　Without another glance, he turned and strode out of the room, leaving Elaine reeling in confusion.
　　"Ceremony? What ceremony?" She called after him, but he did not respond.
　　Duke, who was guarding the exit, bowed respectfully to Sherman before nodding to Elaine.
　　"Miss Morgan, please," he said, gesturing for her to follow.
　　Elaine walked behind him in a daze

Chapter 8 The Ceremony