SAVANNAH
["The boss is definitely not going to like this."]
["What did you want me to do, pick up that disgusting corpse or wait for the specter?!"]
["This girl's lucky; her face is so messed up even the specter didn't want her."]
I overheard two men talking, though their voices seemed distant. My whole body felt drained, as if I'd exerted myself beyond my limits.
Confusion clouded my mind, and I struggled to piece together the recent events. We fought. That... thing appeared, and then... what happened after that?
I was slung over the back of one of my captors, being carried to an unknown destination. Though awake, I feigned sleep, hoping to catch more of their conversation.
"Get her on the boat!" one of them yelled, roughly tossing me onto an old, creaking vessel.
As I realized how far I was getting from the King, panic surged, and I began to thrash, desperate to escape.
"You're awake now? Ahh, damn woman!"
"What's going on?"
"She bit me! You'll pay for that now!"
The last thing I saw was a fist coming straight toward my face.
The next time I regained consciousness, I found myself in a cold, damp cell. My hands were bound behind me, chained to the stone wall.
With one swollen eye, I scanned my surroundings. Nausea and the urge to vomit were tightening in my throat. The stench of mold and rot only worsened my dizziness.
Other shadows huddled in the corners, and I realized they were also young women, all trembling, sobbing, filled with fear.
What did I get myself into, and where exactly was I then?
Before long, they came for me.
I heard footsteps echoing down the dark corridor in front of the large cell, which was opened, and two men grabbed my arms, dragging me out.
No matter how weakly I resisted or pleaded, they pulled me up a staircase, through corridors, toward a door. When they opened it, I found myself in an office.
Bang!
They threw me to the ground, my forehead smacking hard against the stone floor, sending pain shooting through my skull.
Someone knelt beside me, roughly untying the ropes around my wrists.
As I lay there, dazed, the smell of strong cologne hit my senses, and a pair of polished black leather boots stopped right in front of my face.
"Do you know how to read what's on the Goddess's Altar?" a low, cold voice asked me.
"N-no, sir," I quickly replied, trembling but resolute. I knew I could never admit that I understood how to decipher it.
Suddenly, rough fingers gripped my chin, jerking my head up so hard I thought my neck might snap.
"I don't appreciate being lied to," he growled. "And if you're lying, even if you are the one I'm looking for, there will be consequences."
I bit my lip, my heart pounding in my chest.
A massive scar marred his right eye, more grotesque than my own injuries.
His hair was jet black, cropped short, and his eyes were blood-red—his canines exposed, but not as long as those of werewolves.
He had a powerful, dangerous aura about him—dark and bloodthirsty.
I knew very well—I was standing before a vampire— the sworn enemies of werewolves. Both sides hated each other to death, and now I was captured by them.
Vampires never entered our kingdom; they feared Fenrir and the Guardians. Something significant must have driven them to take this risk.
"Bring the shard of the Goddess Stone," he ordered, releasing my chin roughly. "Let's see if you're the one we've been searching for."
I knelt on the floor, pressing my trembling hands against the cold stone, my mind racing.
If they had a way to prove I could read those symbols, it didn't matter how long I denied it—they'd find out the truth eventually.
After a few minutes, one of his men entered through the door with a mysterious black box and placed it on the table. The moment it was opened, I felt strange a pull in my heart—like something tugging at my heart.
"Come to me, my child, come to me," it called, whispering in my mind.
I raised my gaze slightly to see him reverently pull out, with gloves on, a fragment of a dark stone. Its surface laced with glowing specks, like stars trapped within.
It was clear that it was affecting me. I could feel it, especially when they took my hand and forced it closer to the stone, inch by inch.
They were about to uncover my secret.
But I remembered that feeling—the urge to vanish into the shadows, to blend into the darkness where not even werewolves with their heightened senses could find me.
I wished fervently to hide, to protect the strange things, my unknown secrets, and the "call" from the dark stone ceased.
"Aahhh!" I screamed in pain as my fingers touched the stone, my skin burning as if on fire.
I tried to pull away, but they held my hand in place, forcing me to endure the agony.
"Damn it!" one of them cursed, finally releasing me. I cradled my throbbing arm to my chest, tears streaming down my cheeks.