Chapter 9

*Flash Back*

Lizzie's Pov.

More than a month had passed since I came to reside with my new family. I had grown to love them unconditionally and became acquainted with everyone in the village, forging amicable relationships with all. This existence was what I had envisioned for myself, a life far more serene and engaging than the days of my former residence in the castle.

During this time, my connection with Michael blossomed into the most profound. We had become incredibly close, and my thoughts often gravitated toward him. I found myself yearning to be in his presence as much as possible. I accompanied him on hunting expeditions and joined him in the village square, where we observed arm wrestling and other communal activities. There was a comforting solace in his company.

However, these emotions were new and bewildering to me, leaving me with a sense of uncertainty. I couldn't confide in Martha regarding these feelings for her son, and Diana, being too young, was not privy to such matters. The one person I struggled to connect with was Erica, perhaps due to her evident resentment over my proximity to Michael. In all honesty, my sentiments mirrored hers. I couldn't bear the presence of any girl near him, with my inner wolf threatening to surface and defend my claim.

One night, Erica was quite forward with Michael, completely disregarding my presence beside him. The disdainful glare she shot my way felt like daggers aimed at my heart. Anger surged within me, and I contemplated transforming to address the affront, yet Michael gently dismissed her and departed for home. I made an attempt to converse with Erica, but she simply ignored me and walked away. In truth, many would vie for my attention, but I couldn't fault her for her feelings. I had chosen this life for myself, and it had been progressing well. I couldn't allow her to jeopardize it.

Michael, aware of my discomfort, took me to a tavern, though he wasn't particularly fond of such establishments. I insisted on these outings, claiming a desire to learn more about the village. However, the underlying truth was my aversion to the thought of him partaking in excessive drink and the presence of other women, which stirred jealousy and pangs in my heart. I accompanied him to the tavern to ease my unease.

On this particular visit, the tavern was livelier than usual. Men of various statures roamed about, many shirtless and making merry. Topless women circulated, offering drinks and entertainment to the patrons. I attracted the attention of a man who attempted to grab my hand, but Michael promptly intervened, warning the inebriated intruder of dire consequences. The man, heedless, laughed and moved on.

Further down, a crowd had gathered, engrossed in the spectacle of an arm wrestling contest. This was Michael's favorite pastime, and consequently, it had become mine as well. As we joined the gathering to watch, a burly contestant grappled with a slightly less massive opponent. The raw display of strength in their struggle reverberated through the room. If the table itself had been sentient, it might have begged for mercy. The men in this village were robust, far stronger than the ordinary folk in my kingdom.

Ultimately, the less colossal contender emerged victorious. According to the announcer, it marked his tenth triumph of the evening. A challenge was extended to anyone who dared to face him, yet none stepped forward. I was tempted to raise my hand, but Michael restrained me, reminding me of the risks involved, given that werewolves were adversaries of this community.

Those who observed me, however, believed my gesture was on behalf of Michael, as we held hands. Michael never complained, and my habit of unconsciously holding his hand had become an unspoken testament to the completeness I found in his presence.

The winner of the arm wrestling competition descended from his elevated seat and approached us. The onlookers willingly parted to make way for him, revealing that he was even more massive than I had initially thought. His challenge was directed at Michael, who met him with an air of unwavering confidence. He proclaimed his fearlessness in the face of any challenge, prompting the burly man to propose a wrestling bout.

I had an overwhelming sense of guilt for involving Michael in this contest. However, he promptly removed his shirt, signaling his acceptance. As they assumed their positions and the struggle commenced, I anticipated a swift victory. To my astonishment, the power struggle between them persisted, with the colossal man struggling to force Michael's hand down. The crowd erupted in cheers and chanted the man's name, "Alfred, Alfred!" Their belief was that he was merely prolonging the contest to execute a swift victory. Yet, much to everyone's amazement, Michael triumphed. The stunned silence was palpable, and I initiated applause, prompting the entire assembly to join in.

We engaged in further merriment that night, partaking in dancing and witnessing various acts. I cherished every moment spent with him, and that night, I slumbered with the serenity of a contented child, my thoughts consumed by the joy he brought into my life. I wished that this happiness would endure indefinitely.

Over the ensuing weeks, I had been seamlessly integrated into their community. They treated me as though I had been part of their lives from time immemorial. My interactions with the villagers resembled the bonds of family. I occasionally joined the children in nocturnal games beneath the starry sky. At long last, I had found contentment.

However, one fateful day, while returning from the mountains and nearing the village, I stumbled upon a distressing sight – several lifeless animals, including deer and bull carcasses, strewn about the terrain. The unnatural demise of these creatures was apparent, yet it left me puzzled. Unlike werewolves, who typically hunted for sustenance and did not recklessly kill, these animal casualties hinted at something far more sinister. I contemplated the notion but eventually continued my journey to the village.

That night, a piercing scream jolted me awake. I rushed outside to witness a wave of panic as people fled their homes, claiming to have glimpsed a malevolent presence lurking in the shadows. Desperate, I sought in one of the village huts. Inside, a horrifying tableau awaited me – lifeless bodies, many beheaded or bearing gruesome bite marks on their necks, while others had been mutilated. In the midst of this gruesome spectacle, the pungent odor of blood permeating the surroundings, my instincts screamed that this was unlike anything a werewolf would perpetrate. I questioned whether there was another malevolent creature with capabilities beyond my knowledge.

My heightened senses, ever vigilant, detected an approaching menace. With swiftness honed by my supernatural transformation, I thwarted the assault of a man intent on sinking his teeth into my neck. His mouth and visage bore the grisly remnants of his recent violence. His ferocious bloodlust was evident, and I seized the opportunity to scrutinize his ghastly features. His fangs, sharper and more chaotic than those of a werewolf, further fueled my perplexity. His eyes, tainted a malevolent shade of blood red, suggested a creature unlike any I had previously encountered. In my encounter with this creature, I grappled with the enigmatic question: what manner of creature was he? Consumed by a relentless thirst for blood, his sole obsession was to pierce my neck with his jagged fangs. He screeched like a deranged beast, and his brute strength proved formidable, testing my limits to their extreme. Fueled by a primal instinct for self-preservation, I seized his head with a grip that was unyielding, and with a single, swift motion, I twisted it from his body, severing it in an instant.

I swiftly withdrew from the scene, endeavoring to evade any suspicion regarding my supernatural nature. The village resonated with wails of lamentation from that ill-fated night until the break of dawn. With the advent of morning, the village chieftain summoned the entire populace to convene in the village square. From an elevated dais, he addressed the assembled throng.

He commenced by disclosing that the sorceress who had cast a protective boundary spell around their hamlet had met her demise on the preceding night. This, he elucidated, was how a malevolent creature had infiltrated their sanctum. However, he sought to allay their trepidations by proclaiming that the monstrous entity had been killed, offering evidence through the display of its severed head mounted atop a grim spike.

The villagers erupted in jubilation, showering the chieftain with hearty applause and cheers, blissfully unaware that he was unjustly claiming accolades for deeds he had not performed. I, in my clandestine knowledge, recognized that had he been present, his fate would have been sealed in a mere fleeting moment, The creature was a force to be reckoned with. He proceeded to declare that in lieu of the deceased witch, Erica, her granddaughter, would succeed her. Erica ascended the platform and with a simple wave of her hand, ignited the creature's head impaled upon the spike, reducing it to ash. "My condolences to those who suffered losses last night, but I, Erica, possess even greater strength than my grandmother. As proof of this, I shall cast a spell, rendering any supernatural entity crossing our boundaries powerless and ultimately bringing about its demise," Erica declared.

Witches and their spells? This was a new revelation for me. Back in our castles, we had magicians, but they merely served as entertainers. Here, it seemed that witches could conjure the extraordinary from the mundane. There was much more for me to discover beyond the existence of werewolves. But then again, I had something bigger to worry about.