Elias' first night in the village was quiet but uneasy. He was given a small room in the elder's home—a modest structure with wooden beams and a hearth that barely warmed the space. The elder, whose name he learned was Loran, offered him a simple meal of bread and stew, along with a thin blanket to ward off the chill.
"You can stay a few days," Loran said as they ate. His eyes remained sharp, watching Elias closely. "But you'll need to earn your keep. We're a small village, and everyone pulls their weight."
Elias nodded, grateful for the hospitality. "I'll help however I can," he replied, meaning every word. He had no intention of being a burden, especially not here, in a world he still didn't understand.
The following morning, Elias rose early. The village was already bustling with activity, though it was clear the people lived simple, harsh lives. Smoke rose from chimneys as women prepared meals, while men carried tools to the fields or tended to livestock. Children darted through the dirt paths, their laughter a rare lightness in the otherwise somber atmosphere.
Loran assigned Elias to help with the heavier tasks—hauling sacks of grain, repairing broken carts, and chopping firewood. At first, the villagers eyed him warily, their whispers following him as he worked. But as the day went on, their suspicion began to wane. Elias was quick, efficient, and far stronger than they had anticipated. He carried loads that would have required three men and split logs with a single swing of the axe. Despite his supernatural strength, he made a point to appear natural, never drawing unnecessary attention to himself.
"You're a strong one," one of the men, a wiry farmer named Tomas, remarked as Elias hefted a large barrel onto a cart. "Haven't seen strength like that in years."
Elias only offered a polite smile, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just used to hard work," he replied, keeping his tone light. Inside, he knew his strength wasn't ordinary. He was an Alpha, and every fiber of his being reminded him of it. His senses were sharp, his reflexes quicker than anyone here, and the dormant power in his body thrummed like a barely contained storm.
As the days passed, Elias settled into a routine. He worked alongside the villagers during the day, his efforts slowly earning their trust. In the evenings, he joined them for meals around the communal fire, listening to their stories and learning more about this strange world. They spoke in hushed tones of the "bloodsuckers" that haunted the woods and the dangers of the night. It was clear they lived in constant fear, their lives shadowed by the threat of the unknown.
But it wasn't just the villagers who noticed Elias. At the edge of the forest, where the trees loomed like silent sentinels, he often caught glimpses of a figure watching the village. Whoever it was stayed in the shadows, always disappearing before Elias could get a clear look. The first time it happened, Elias dismissed it as a trick of the light. But as the sightings became more frequent, he couldn't ignore the nagging sense of unease.
At night, when the village was quiet and the stars lit the sky, Elias would let his red eyes glow faintly, scanning the darkness for anything unusual. The forest seemed to breathe with life, its shadows shifting and whispering secrets he couldn't yet decipher. On more than one occasion, he thought he saw movement—a shadow too large to be an animal, slipping between the trees. But no matter how far he focused, the figure always remained just out of reach.
One evening, as Elias carried a bundle of firewood to the elder's home, he heard a sharp cry from one of the houses. Dropping the wood, he sprinted toward the sound, arriving to find a young boy trapped under a collapsed beam from the roof of a storage shed. Without hesitation, Elias crouched and lifted the beam with ease, freeing the boy. The villagers gathered, murmuring in amazement.
"Are you hurt?" Elias asked the boy, his voice gentle despite the adrenaline coursing through him. The boy shook his head, eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe.
"You saved him," a woman—the boy's mother—said, her voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you."
Elias nodded, stepping back as the woman pulled her son into a tight embrace. Loran, who had arrived moments later, gave Elias a long, appraising look.
"You've done good here," the elder said quietly. "But be careful. Strength like yours draws attention, and not all attention is good."
Elias met Loran's gaze, understanding the unspoken warning. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied.
That night, as Elias lay in his small room, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. The village was silent, the faint crackle of the hearth the only sound. Letting his instincts guide him, he slipped out of bed and moved to the window, his red eyes glowing faintly as he scanned the darkness.
There, at the edge of the forest, was the figure again. This time, it didn't disappear immediately. It lingered, its shape obscured by shadows but unmistakably humanoid. Elias' muscles tensed as he stared, waiting for it to make a move. But after a few moments, the figure melted back into the trees, leaving nothing but the stillness of the night.
Elias exhaled slowly, his breath fogging the glass. Whoever or whatever was watching him wasn't ready to reveal themselves. Not yet. But he knew it was only a matter of time.
As he returned to bed, his mind churned with questions. He was an outsider here, and the world he'd found himself in was fraught with dangers he didn't fully understand. But one thing was certain: he wouldn't let fear control him. He was an Alpha, and no matter what lurked in the shadows, he would face it head-on.