RYLAINDREIN'S POV
For a moment, I thought he was Yehua, but as he approached, his stride slow and deliberate, I realized he wasn't. His face might resemble Yehua's, but this man exuded a completely different aura. No, Yehua wouldn't be caught dead in clothes like that. Yehua would always wear a hoodie jacket with headphones around his neck, effortlessly cool. This guy? He looked like a mess.
"What did you just call me?" His smirk was a mixture of annoyance and amusement.
"Did I say something?" I shot back, arms crossed, watching as his eyebrows rose in mock shock.
"After being struck by my arrow, you dare speak to someone as high as me with such disrespect?" he sneered.
High? What's so high about him? Don't tell me he's the tribe's leader. I scoffed, giving him a once-over. His clothes were slightly better than the others—fur coat and all—but still unimpressive. No headdress, though. Fancy.
Wait—did he just admit to shooting me? With an arrow? But I was shot with a gun!
"High?" I echoed mockingly, unable to suppress my laugh.
"High?" I pointed at him. "You look like a beggar. A peasant, to be exact."
"You—" He hissed, stepping forward with his arm raised as if to hit me. Instinctively, I stepped back, raising my palms.
"Whoa, easy there! Someone's got a temper," I teased. "Too hot-headed for your own good."
"You've grown bold, Advaeya Aife," he snarled, his tone laced with venom.
I froze. That name again. Advaeya Aife? They keep calling me that! Why?
"Don't forget," he continued, stepping closer, his smirk shifting into something darker, more threatening, "I know your secret. What would the tribe do if they knew the truth about you? They'd burn you alive—or worse, skin you."
What secret?
Fear crept into my chest, but I refused to let it show. I didn't know what he meant, but his tone made it clear it wasn't good. My stomach churned at the thought of being burned or skinned alive—regardless of whether this was my body or not, I'd feel the pain.
"Go ahead," I said nonchalantly, shrugging. "I couldn't care less."
"What?" His voice dripped with disbelief.
Before the tension escalated further, Zale and Kendrick intervened, stepping forward and bowing low. Their expressions were laced with politeness—completely out of character for Zale, at least.
"We apologize for her behavior," Zale said, his voice calm and respectful, though it made me cringe. "She's suffering from memory loss and doesn't remember anything."
Memory loss? That's the excuse we're going with? But I suppose it's fitting for this weird "metal age." Respecting hierarchies and all that jazz. God, I hate this primitive ranking system.
"Memory loss, huh?" The man scoffed, eyeing me with open disdain. His smirk returned, sharper this time. "Is this one of your new tactics, Advaeya? To earn the tribe's pity? You monster."
I blinked, taken aback. Monster? What? His words were like daggers, piercing deeper than I wanted to admit. He clearly hated me—or rather, her.
"You're just a weakling," he hissed, stepping closer. His hand shot out, gripping my wrist tightly. I winced, struggling to pull away. "Stop pretending to be strong, Advaeya. You're nothing but a loser!" With that, he shoved my arm aside harshly and stormed off, leaving me standing there, stunned.
"What's his problem?" I muttered, rubbing my wrist.
Kendrick sighed. "He knows what you are, AA."
There it is again. I didn't have the energy to correct him this time.
"And?" I pressed, gesturing for him to continue. "Let's say I believe this whole vampire-werewolf nonsense, even though I don't. Why does he hate me so much?"
The two exchanged a silent glance—telepathy, maybe? Finally, Kendrick spoke.
"His family was killed by your lineage."
"What? I didn't kill them."
"No, you didn't," Zale said, shaking his head. "Your tribe did."
I scoffed. "Then why is he dumping all his anger on me?"
"Because you're the only survivor of your tribe," Kendrick admitted cautiously.
Those words hit like a freight train. I froze, staring at them. "What did you just say?"
When they didn't answer, I repeated, louder this time, "I'm the only survivor?"
They both nodded solemnly. The weight of their words sank in. This girl's entire family, her entire tribe... gone. And now I'm in her body.
I sat down heavily on the wooden bed, covering my face with my hands. The smell of blood on my fingers hit me, sharp and metallic. A strange sensation rippled through my body, and I froze.
What the...?
I lowered my hands to see my nails elongating into claws. My tongue ran across my teeth, and I felt them—fangs.
My vision shifted, bathed in crimson. My throat was parched, burning with an unfamiliar thirst.
"You're hungry," Zale said matter-of-factly, extending his wrist toward me. "Feed."
The sight of his veins made my head spin. My body moved on its own, my instincts screaming to sink my teeth into his flesh. But I shoved his hand away, stepping back, my hands over my mouth.
"I—I can't," I stammered, saliva pooling in my mouth.
"It's in your nature," he urged.
"No!" I snapped, backing further away.
This was too much. Time traveling was one thing. But this? Fangs? Bloodlust? A vampire-werewolf?
"This isn't real," I whispered. My voice broke. "This can't be real."
"AA, stop!" Kendrick called, but I wasn't listening.
I couldn't accept this. I couldn't accept her.
And then, the most troubling thought surfaced, chilling me to the core:
Why am I here?
Why did I time travel? Why am I in her body?
And why does that man—who looks so much like Yehua—hate me so much?
What is the reason for all of this?