Before the incident
In the dimly lit room, a young boy peered intently at his textbook, his glasses perched precariously on his nose. "Ovid, a Roman poet, penned Metamorphoses during the first century AD," he read aloud, his voice carrying a mixture of confidence and academic pride. "From this, the term 'Lycanthrope' emerges, harking back to King Lycaon's tale. He offended the gods by offering them human flesh, resulting in his transformation into a wolf. A punishment that allowed him to perpetuate his gruesome habits."
"A mere myth, Elijah," Ashley interjected as she balanced two plates, preparing for breakfast.
"No, these stories hold weight," Elijah countered, his gaze fixed on his sister's hands as she deftly arranged the table.
"They're tales spun from imagination, Elijah," Ashley retorted, her tone reflecting her exasperation. She had dealt with this argument countless times before.
"You shouldn't have woken up," Elijah retorted, closing the book.
The siblings, Ashley and Elijah, were bound by more than blood. Their parents' untimely demise had thrust Ashley into the role of caregiver for her younger brother, a role she embraced wholeheartedly.
Their dwelling, tucked on the fringes, bore witness to their shared history. Its timeworn facade bore the weight of years, its faded paint whispering stories of days long past. Windows, patched and worn, filtered sunlight in fragmented rays, casting poignant shadows that chronicled a narrative of endurance. The roof, aged and weather-beaten, stood as a testament to their journey through hardship.
Within the house, traces of thriftiness lingered. Furniture, a mishmash of styles and eras, conveyed a quiet resilience. A scent of conservation permeated the air, a reminder of the care with which they managed their meager resources. Unconventional shelves cradled cherished mementos, each a testament to their capacity to find value in the simplest of things. In the midst of modest surroundings, their dwelling breathed a steadfast spirit, a silent tribute to their unwavering bond in the face of adversity.
"No, these narratives hold truths," Elijah asserted, his frustration palpable. He rose abruptly, his untouched meal finding refuge in his bag. "I'm off to school, and then I'll be spending the holidays at Aunt Emily's."
Ashley watched him leave, her heart heavy with the weight of her unspoken sentiment. "I'll be there with Aunt Emily as well," she whispered to his retreating figure, hoping her voice carried her love and longing.
"If you doubt it, then don't bother coming!" Elijah's voice echoed back to her, and a small smile played on Ashley's lips.
"Kids," she mused aloud, her laughter carrying a mixture of fondness and exasperation. Her gaze shifted to the bread in her hand, a simple pleasure that now held a heightened allure. "When was the last time I tasted something so simple and delicious?" she wondered, savoring the moment.
Her contentment painted a vivid expression on her face, a canvas illuminated by a hard-won happiness. Yet, the tranquility was suddenly marred as figures emerged, clutching menacing clubs in their grasp.
Ashley's expression contorted from bliss to alarm, her mind racing to comprehend the sudden intrusion. "Surprised to see me?" The leader's voice dripped with smugness, his sinister grin betraying his malicious intent. Anxiety gripped Ashley, her eyes darting around, seeking an escape route that seemed to elude her.
"Are you surprised, my dear?" The ringleader's question hung in the air, each word a calculated threat. Ashley's heart pounded, her thoughts racing as she considered her options. "My parents are gone; I can't conjure that amount of money," she pleaded.
A heavy silence hung in the air, punctuated by the leader's chilling retort. "Think again," he sneered, his eyes a window to his cruel intentions.
"It was my father who borrowed that money," Ashley's voice trembled with a mix of anger and grief. "My mother paid with her life – She is down at the hospital, and yet you still demand payment? How heartless can you be?" Her outburst was met with scornful laughter from the gang.
"You're just a child," the leader taunted, a cruel glint in his eyes. "There are ways we can teach you the value of responsibility, young and beautiful as you are."
Ashley's gaze darted, catching sight of a passerby just outside. "Hey!" she called out, her voice carrying desperation and hope. The gang turned to follow her gaze, affording her a crucial moment of distraction. In a burst of determination, Ashley propelled herself towards the door, shoving her assailants aside.
"Get back here!" They bellowed in pursuit, their threats echoing in the air as she fled.
Ashley sprinted until a searing pain coursed through her thighs. Her relentless pursuers showed no signs of relenting. Fortunately, fate intervened in the form of a hooded stranger.
"Please, I need your help," Ashley implored, gasping for breath as she clung to the man's hoodie. "They're chasing me. Please, you have to help." She pointed frantically at the approaching gang.
The stranger regarded her with an enigmatic calm. "You want them gone?" he inquired, prompting Ashley to nod vigorously. "Desiring their disappearance won't make them vanish into thin air. Life has a way of dealing its cards."
"Huh?" Ashley's brows knitted in confusion at the cryptic response. Yet, something about the stranger's voice tugged at her memory, leaving her with a nagging sense of familiarity. The next words he uttered would dispel her doubts.
"It appears you've escaped the River of the Alps," he observed with a sly grin. "Now, run along. I'll buy you some time."
After the incident
Ashley's realization hit like a whirlwind as she watched the enigmatic man walk through a door, leaving her with a puzzle of thoughts.
"Why should I live life as it comes when I'm drowning in confusion?" She whispered to herself, determination sparking in her eyes.
In the depths of her mind, she made a solemn promise to uncover the truth of her situation, to understand how she had arrived here, and most crucially, to fathom the enigma of Gwen. A name that seemed to carry both weight and meaning in this new life she found herself in.
"I need to meet Damon," Ashley declared.
Lord Arwin's abrupt scrutiny couldn't deter her. "Damon... I must see him," she reiterated.
"Why?" Lord Arwin questioned, though the determined look in Ashley's eyes seemed to sway his judgment. "Very well, but he will have to confer with the Alpha first," he conceded.
"Thank you," Ashley offered, attempting to rise. She could sense Lord Arwin's watchful gaze upon her, but her resolve remained unwavering. She settled herself on the third-to-last step leading to the main door, her chosen vantage point.
"What are you doing?" Lord Arwin inquired.
"Waiting for him," Ashley replied firmly.
"Aren't you exhausted? You've just returned from... a perilous situation," Lord Arwin pointed out, his concern evident. "Even after losing your memory your subconscious is still drawn to Damon." He thought as he heaved a sigh.
Ashley appreciated his genuine care, yet she wished he understood the profound confusion that gripped her. Her family, teetering on the edge of survival, needed her. As much as she yearned for the tranquility of this place, her heart ached for the chaos of home.
An hour slipped by, with Damon nowhere in sight. Glancing back, Ashley observed Lord Arwin, who had succumbed to slumber, using a pillar for support.
"How I wish someone cared for me like this," she sighed, preparing to tuck her head between her knees. Suddenly, the door screeched open.
Startled, Ashley fixed her gaze upon the door, and there, in a dramatic entrance, stood Damon—a beacon of hope in the midst of her perplexing existence in this strange world.
Damon approached, his smile radiant. "I can tell you've managed to escape the River of the Alps," he remarked, taking measured steps until he came to a stop.
Ashley felt a rush of relief and a flicker of hope. It seemed like this person understood the mystery of her situation, giv
ing her a much-needed moment of clarity in the midst of her overwhelming confusion.