Just as I was about to lose hope, one elder approached me quietly, lowering his voice as if to shield his words from prying ears. “I’ve noticed that your daughter seems different. But there are many possibilities. This pack has its share of half-blood witches. You might want to investigate further. All I can say is that she may not be your daughter, but I hope I’m mistaken.”
With a fierce blend of desperation and determination, I meticulously gathered strands of Beatrice’s hair and a few cherished keepsakes, ready to bring to light the truth.
With a heavy heart, I approached the healer.
“You’re the only one I can trust in this matter,” I urged, locking eyes with him. “Help me discover if Beatrice is truly my daughter.”
