The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 52: The White Wolf

In the eerie glow of the waning moonlight, a pack of mutts shuffled forward, their fur matted and grimy, eyes glazed over with a haunting emptiness. Jessamyn stood alone in the darkness, her heart pounding.

The wolves moved in a disjointed manner, limbs jerking awkwardly as if controlled by some unseen force. They bared their dull and stained fangs, and a low, guttural growl emanated from their throats, as their mouth lathered with slobber.

As they drew nearer, Jessamyn couldn’t see the remnants of their former human selves in the twisted forms before her. They had lost the life they once knew. Touched by the shapeshifter, now, they were nothing more than mindless husks, driven by an insatiable hunger for flesh, stinking like rotten flesh.

They approached her steadily and Jessamyn realized one another thing. The poison in her body was flushed out as she was kept away from them. Having monkshood poison in her body would have served as a deterrent.

Without the monkshood poison or the silver arrow, Jessamyn knew her survival chances weren’t any good. She could run but for how long? Those beings never get tired. No one would be here to rescue her. Even if there were soldiers, iron does nothing to those beings but strengthen them.

She couldn’t find any reason to survive either. Why should she bother surviving? Isadora might cry for some days but she had Bernard to lean on. Ethan had his titles back and he too would survive.

Who needs me?

She sat on a nearby rock with her back straight, hoping those mindless beings would take a bite out of her neck first giving her a quick death.

The scent of death enveloped her as the mutts encircled her. Her lack of movement might have confused them for they approached her cautiously.

Jessamyn’s heart raced. She felt the weight of their presence bearing down on her, a suffocating dread that threatened to consume her whole—fear of pain and death.

Joar...

She chanted his name for he was her solace.

-----

Sitting on the bed, Isadora clenched her skirt and twisted it out of nervousness as she heard the door knock. She knew it was not Bernard. She already told him that she was going to sleep. He wouldn’t disturb her after that.

It should be Wulfhart knocking on the door.

She was tired already and her worry mixed with the tiredness caused her a headache. What do I do?

She ran to the window and looked out. Hours had passed but her lady was not back. She squinted her eyes and looked as far as she could but there was no sign of her returning.

What if... What if Milady is in danger?

Now Isadora’s stress only increased.

"Open the door, right now!!!"

The enraged voice confirmed to Isadora that it was Wulfhart. She didn’t linger and rushed to the door and opened it.

Jerrick rushed in, hand over his chest. "Where is she?" he asked. He saw the bundle under the sheets. He walked to the bed and pulled down the blanket with full force. His face twitched and his scorching gaze landed on Isadora, seeing the lined pillows.

"Where is she?" he roared.

Isadora’s words got stuck in her throat. The man in front of her was emitting an aura of a destroyer. Her head throbbed in pain.

A gust of wind blew and Jerrick’s attention turned to the window. He got to the window and observed into the darkness.

"When did she leave?" he asked.

Knots formed in Isadora’s stomach as he approached her with a ferocious glare. A chill passed through her spine. She wanted to speak to help her lady, but her voice didn’t come out as she couldn’t overcome the suppressing aura emitting from Wulfhart.

"Isadora..." Bernard called her name.

"Yes," Isadora found courage amidst the suffocating aura hearing Bernard’s voice. His voice was like a bright light illuminating through the darkest night.

"She went out three hours ago for a walk. She hasn’t returned yet," Isadora said.

"Three hours?" Jerrick gritted his teeth.

Isadora furrowed her brows as Jerrick rubbed his chest as if he were in pain. Suddenly, she felt a surge of emotions rising from the bottom of her heart.

"You made her run away. She was fine in the morning. It was you!" Isadora walked to Jerrick. "What did you say to her?" she raised her hand to hit him. "Milady is in danger because of you!"

Before she reached Jerrick, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her. Isadora flailed her limbs to somehow hit Jerrick but failed. Her head throbbed with pain.

"Isadora..."

The intensity of her flailing reduced as a gentle masculine scent enveloped her. It was as if someone wrapped her with a comfortably warm blanket when she was half-asleep. She wanted to nuzzle into the warmth and fall asleep.

"Shhh..."

Isadora’s limbs fell limply to her sides to the soft shushing sound of Bernard. His voice was steady and comforting flowing like a soothing melody through the air. It was as if his voice carried with it a sense of understanding, a silent promise of safety and security.

"Wulfhart will bring your lady back. Rest."

Isadora’s eyelids fell heavy and before she knew it, she closed her eyes. She heard Jerrick walking out and she slowly opened her eyes. Through the blur, she saw him with a noble gait walking away.

"JayJay! My horse!" he shouted.

Isadora closed her eyes again as she floated. It was nice to be carried by him and her lips curved when her back rested on the soft bed.

"Sleep," Bernard covered her eyes as she tried to open them.

Isadora giggled and held his hand. "I shall. If you stay..."

Bernard caught her smile and his lips curved too. "As you wish..."

-----

Consumed by fear, Jessamyn shut her eyes closer. The inhumane cries of the mutts grew closer to her and she gritted her chattering teeth.

*Growl*

The war cry of a wolf echoed through the forest, a primal sound that sent shivers down the spine of any who heard it. It began as a low, guttural growl, building in intensity as it rose into a haunting howl that pierced the night air.

What is this? Jessamyn opened her eyes.

Bathed in the ethereal glow of the moonlight, a majestic wolf emerged from the shadows, its pristine white fur illuminated like freshly fallen snow. Each strand seemed to shimmer with a radiant purity, casting a soft luminescence that danced across its sleek form.

Its stature was regal, standing tall and proud with a confidence born of centuries past. Every movement was graceful, each step measured and deliberate, as if the very earth beneath its paws bowed in reverence to its presence.

But it was the wolf’s eyes that captured the most attention — two orbs of pure silver, glowing with an otherworldly light that seemed to pierce through the darkness. Within their depths lay a wisdom ancient as time itself, a silent testament to the mysteries of the wild.

The mutts scattered away.

Isn’t this the wolf I saw that day? Jessamyn’s eyes widened with shock.