Chapter 82: Weighing the Risks
**Dorothy’s Perspective**
“Good afternoon, Dorothy!”
The voice was unmistakable–bright and full of energy. Thelma always seemed to carry a glow of vitality wherever she went.
I looked up from the book I was reading and offered a faint smile. “Good afternoon, Thelma. Is there something I can help you with?”
Thelma hesitated for a moment, scratching her head nervously. “Well, actually… there is something,” she admitted with a sheepish smile,
“Let’s talk about it on the way,” she said suddenly, tugging at my hand and leading me toward the city. “I know a wonderful pancake shop nearby. Are you hungry? We can grab some afternoon tea together.”
“Sure,” I replied.
Ordinarily, I might have suggested heading back to my house–it was only a short walk from where we stood. But I had no desire to return to that suffocating environment, and perhaps Thelma sensed it. She opened her mouth a few times, seemingly on the verge of asking something, but stopped herself each time.
I appreciated her tact. Sometimes silence was better than words.
At the pancake shop, I stirred the vanilla syrup on my plate absentmindedly, the sweet aroma doing little to lift my spirits. Finally, I asked, “So what’s the urgent matter?”
Thelma sighed, looking uncharacteristically dejected. “It’s not just urgent–it’s dangerous. Honestly, I’m starting to regret coming to you about it.”
“Go ahead and tell me,” I said, my curiosity piqued.
Thelma took a deep breath, her expression growing serious as she began. “You’ve heard of the southern Duke, haven’t you? Carolyn’s father?”
I nodded. “Of course. He’s a celebrated war hero, isn’t he?”
“That’s right,” Thelma said, leaning closer. “But right now, this hero is in a bit of trouble, and he needs the help of someone with witchcraft knowledge.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You came to me for this? There are plenty of skilled witches and wizards out there, far more experienced than I am. I’ve only just awakened my bloodline, and I haven’t even finished reading my theory books.”
Thelma hesitated, as if weighing her words carefully. Finally, her expression hardened with resolve. “Dorothy, I’m about to tell you something no one else should know. Promise me
you’ll keep it a secret.”
“You have my word,” I said firmly. “I’ll keep anything you tell me in confidence.”
Thelma chuckled softly. “No need to be so formal. But thank you. I trust you.”
She paused for a moment before asking, “What do you think of Carolyn?”
I frowned, thinking back to the few interactions I’d had with her. Carolyn was a striking figure, always surrounded by an entourage of admirers.
“She seems like a show–off,” I said carefully. “Flamboyant, attention–seeking… maybe a little immature. She reminds me of those characters in soap operas who spend their time scheming against everyone.”
Thelma sighed, her expression somber. “That’s what most people think. But what if I told you that the real Carolyn isn’t like that? According to the Lycan King, when Carolyn accompanied her father to the royal court last year, she was poised, elegant, and cautious. Doesn’t it strike you as odd that she’s changed so much in just one year?
I furrowed my brow. “What are you implying?”
Leaning in, Thelma lowered her voice to a whisper. “The truth is, Carolyn’s body has either been possessed by or switched with a witch. That’s why her personality has changed so drastically.”
“What?” I exclaimed, my voice louder than I intended. Several customers turned to look at us, and I quickly smiled apologetically. Lowering my voice, I continued, “But Carolyn is the daughter of a Duke! Wouldn’t he have noticed something was wrong?”
Thelma nodded grimly. “He did notice. That’s the real problem. The southern Duke knows his daughter has been switched.”
I stared at her, stunned. The southern pack was known for its strength and vigilance. How could a sorcerer infiltrate one of the most secure werewolf territories and replace the Duke’s daughter without anyone stopping them?
“The situation is more complicated than it seems,” Thelma explained. “The southern Duke “The situation is more complicated than it seems,” T isn’t under the sorcerer’s direct control, but he is being closely monitored. The sorcerer has cast a powerful spell of imprisonment on him, forcing him to play along with the charade. Whoever this sorcerer is, they’re extraordinarily skilled. They’ve managed to conceal their magical traces entirely, even from the most sensitive detection methods.”
“The Lycan King is convinced this is part of a larger conspiracy against the werewolves,” Thelma continued. “He needs someone to break the Duke free from the sorcerer’s watchful eye. This
This person must be trustworthy, discreet, and impossible to trace back to the royal court.”
I began to understand why Thelma had come to me. “And you think I’m the right person for the job?”
Chapraz nghing the His
Thelma met my gaze, her expression earnest. “Dorothy, you’re not just a friend -I trust you implicitly. You’re brave, resourceful, and loyal. But I won’t lie to you. This mission is dangerous. If the sorcerer discovers what we’re trying to do, you’ll be her primary target.”
The w
weight of her words settled over me like a heavy cloak. The implications of what she was asking were enormous. I thought of my grandmother’s constant accusations of treachery and evil. If I took on this task, I would be stepping into the very world she feared.
Still, a part of me bristled at the idea of standing idly by while others suffered.
“So, Dorothy,” Thelma said softly. “Are you willing to help us?”
Her question hung in the air, waiting for an answer.
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