Elias guided the wagon into the heart of the neighboring village just as dawn began to break. The villagers were already stirring, their routines beginning with the soft clatter of pots and murmured greetings. Marella, weary but composed, glanced around the bustling streets as Elias helped her down from the wagon.
"Thank you for bringing me here safely," she said quietly. Her sharp eyes lingered on him, as though trying to decipher what lay beneath his calm demeanor.
"You're welcome," Elias replied simply. He began unloading her belongings, his strength making the task look effortless. Marella's relatives arrived shortly after, greeting her with warm embraces. Elias stepped back, giving them space to reunite, but Marella caught his arm before he could leave.
"You should rest," she said, a rare softness in her voice. "And maybe find something to eat. You've done enough."
Elias nodded. "I'll help you finish settling in first."
Over the next hour, Elias helped carry Marella's belongings into her relatives' modest home. He fixed a broken wheel on their wagon and even hauled several heavy sacks of grain into their storage shed. His tireless work didn't go unnoticed, and by the time he was done, Marella's uncle clapped him on the shoulder with a broad smile.
"You're a good man," the older man said. "Stay as long as you need. You'll always have a place here."
Elias gave a small nod, appreciating the sentiment but knowing he wouldn't linger for long. Marella approached him again, holding a small coin pouch. "Here," she said, pressing it into his hand. "It's not much, but it's a thank you. And go to the bar. Have a drink. You've earned it."
Elias hesitated, but the look in her eyes told him arguing would be pointless. "Thank you," he said, tucking the pouch away.
As Elias made his way to the local tavern, Marella's journey was already becoming a topic of discussion elsewhere. Deep in the woods, the vampire who had attacked them stood among his kin, his face pale and his strength still not fully recovered. The others circled him, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.
"You're telling me a man did this?" one of them said, his tone skeptical.
"Not a man," the injured vampire hissed. "He wasn't like us, either. He had claws. Strength unlike anything I've seen. And his eyes..." He shuddered. "They glowed red."
The group exchanged uneasy glances. Another vampire, taller and more commanding, stepped forward. "A werewolf, perhaps?"
"No," the injured one replied. "Not like any werewolf I've ever encountered. He didn't need the moon to have that kind of power."
The taller vampire's expression darkened. "Whatever he is, he's a threat. And threats need to be eliminated."
The group murmured in agreement, their plans taking shape. They would find this man—this creature—and ensure he didn't upset their dominion.
Back in the village, Elias pushed open the heavy wooden door of the tavern. The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of ale and roasted meat. A few patrons sat scattered around, nursing drinks and speaking in low tones. Elias found a seat at the bar, placing a few coins on the counter.
"Whatever's strongest," he told the barkeep.
The man gave him a curious look but nodded, pouring a dark, frothy ale into a mug and sliding it across the counter. Elias took a long sip, the bitterness sharp on his tongue. It wasn't unpleasant, but it did nothing to him. No warmth spread through his chest, no fog dulled his senses. He drank more, testing himself, but the result was the same.
What are you? The vampire's question echoed in his mind. Elias knew exactly what he was: a werewolf, an Alpha, with power coursing through him that set him apart even from others of his kind. But he wasn't about to explain that to anyone. No one in this strange world had mentioned werewolves yet, and Elias wasn't going to be the one to bring it up.
He took another sip, his red eyes briefly flickering beneath his calm exterior. This world—with its carriages, oddly dressed people, and strange customs—was so far removed from the one he knew. Yet here he was, blending in as best he could, trying to piece together where he belonged.
As he sat there, he listened to the quiet hum of conversations around him. A few villagers glanced his way, whispering about the stranger who had arrived with Marella. Elias ignored them, focusing instead on the mundane sounds of the tavern. It was a rare moment of calm, and he allowed himself to relax, if only slightly.
Elias finished his drink, placing the empty mug on the counter. The barkeep raised an eyebrow. "Another?"
Elias shook his head. "Thanks, but I'm done."
As he left the tavern, the evening air greeted him, cool and crisp. He took a deep breath, his senses sharpening as he scanned the streets. For now, the village was peaceful, but Elias knew that peace was fragile. The vampires wouldn't forget him, and he wouldn't let himself forget them either.