Chapter 979
Chapter 979:
She stared at me, her voice trembling. “Could it be… that you are the Saint’s daughter?”
A lump formed in my throat. Facing Maia’s expectant gaze, I met her eyes with quiet resolve. “If nothing has gone wrong, then my mother is indeed the Saint—Josie.”
Makenna’s POV:
The revelation I shared seemed to suspend Maia in a trance, as though time itself had paused indefinitely. Her vacant gaze and rigid stance made her appear like a statue, caught in a moment of disbelief.
As I observed her response, I began to question whether she doubted the truth of my words. My chest tightened with unease as I racked my brain for ways to persuade her to place her faith in me. But before I could act, Maia abruptly dropped to one knee with a heavy thud, bowing before me in a gesture steeped in reverence.
“Thank the heavens you’re unharmed! It’s a privilege beyond words to meet you face-to-face finally!” she cried out, her voice thick with emotion, tears glistening in her eyes.
Taken aback by her sudden display, I instinctively reached out to lift her up, exclaiming, “Mrs. Pierce, what’s this about? Please, get up!”
“No,” she replied firmly, clutching my hand with unwavering resolve. “For years, we’ve scoured the shadows for any trace of the Saint, piecing together scraps of knowledge, chasing every fleeting hint. Now, I just want to know—Is the Saint still alive?”
Her question struck me like a blow, and my heart plummeted.
“My mother faced a grueling labor when she brought me into this world… She didn’t make it through,” I murmured, my tone softening as deep sorrow crept into my words.
Maia froze, her initial spark of excitement extinguished in an instant. Moments later, she let go of my hand, pressing her palms to her face as sobs broke free, tears streaming between her fingers.
ⓣ𝓱𝓮 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲: gⱯ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀.con
“Mrs. Pierce…” I stood there, rooted to the spot, grappling with her overwhelming grief, unable to muster a single comforting phrase.
“What’s going on here?”
A sharp voice cut through the air from behind us.
Whirling around, I spotted Jett striding toward us, his brow creased with concern and his demeanor stern. He reached my side and tugged me gently behind him, his wary gaze locked on Maia.
She hastily wiped away her tears and stood up, her reddened eyes now locked onto Jett with intensity. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Could it be… are you Jett Armstrong, the hybrid who stood by the Saint’s side all those years ago?”
Jett’s eyes widened briefly in surprise before narrowing, studying her with guarded suspicion. “How do you know that?”
Maia’s emotions surged as she stepped closer, her voice shaking yet resolute. “I served as the Saint’s lieutenant back then and caught glimpses of you on rare occasions. Word spread of a gifted hybrid—half-wizard, half-werewolf—named Jett who fought alongside her.”
Jett listened, his expression clouded with uncertainty, as if trying to place her in his memory.
I felt a similar confusion rising within me and turned to him, asking, “Didn’t you ever cross paths with Mrs. Pierce at the palace?”
Jett let out a dry, humorless laugh and shrugged slightly. “As a hybrid, I was met with nothing but scorn and isolation in the palace. Aside from the Saint, everyone treated me like an outcast. Why would I bother remembering any of them?”
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