8

When Zara regained consciousness, she noticed that the sun had already set. She also remembered falling asleep in front of a fireplace while wrapped in a blanket. Looking around the room, she noted that it was filled with numerous valuable antiques. Although she recognized some of these items, she couldn't identify others. One thing was certain: whoever owned this place certainly enjoyed collecting rare artifacts.

To her relief, she saw that the elf was nowhere to be seen. Feeling grateful to God for sparing her life yet again, she sat up straight and rubbed her throbbing neck. "Ow... Damn it hurts..."

Then, she caught sight of the wooden chair standing near the hearth. Curious about its purpose, she walked over to investigate. Upon reaching it, she found a small book resting on the seat cushion. Cautiously, she reached out to touch it but stopped midway when she noticed it contained writing written entirely in elvish script.

"What does this say?" she whispered quietly to herself.

Deciding to read it anyway, Zara flipped open the cover to discover a page containing various symbols and runes. When she focused hard enough, however, she managed to decipher some of the words within the text. According to her interpretation, it seemed to be a spellbook used by wizards.

Suddenly, footsteps approached from the hallway. Startled, Zara hid the book underneath the pillow. Then, she peeked nervously towards the entrance only to see the elf standing outside the bedroom doorway. She quickly averted her gaze lest he notice her presence. Then, she waited patiently for him to enter the room. Once he did, she quickly scrambled out of bed and fled to another part of the cabin. There, she crouched down low and hid behind a sofa. She watched as he moved across the room and entered the kitchen area. After rummaging around for several moments, he finally returned carrying a bowl filled with steaming soup. He proceeded to sit down on the couch opposite her and poured himself a cup of tea.

Zara listened carefully as the elf sipped his drink. "Hmm... Good stuff," he remarked aloud before placing the empty mug on the coffee table. "So tell me, why are you hiding in my house?"

At first, Zara thought that he might have sensed her presence somehow. Perhaps, he could detect her scent given that she smelled faintly of lavender. But upon further consideration, she realized that this explanation was unlikely since the elf didn't appear surprised or suspicious upon entering the room. Rather, he acted as though nothing unusual had occurred whatsoever.

Nevertheless, she chose to answer honestly regardless of whether he could hear her. "Well, um... I'm sorry for sneaking into your home unannounced. And I apologize for breaking in too. Really, I shouldn't have done any such thing."

The elf smiled gently. "That's alright. Don't worry yourself over such trivial matters. Besides, you're not the first person who has broken in here."

Surprised by his response, Zara froze in place for a moment before responding. "Really? Why's that?"

"Because people keep doing so. They usually come seeking shelter during the full moon. For obvious reasons."

Zara furrowed her brows at this revelation. "Why would anyone seek refuge here?"

"People need somewhere safe to stay while under transformation," explained the elf. "They often choose to avoid populated areas because they believe everyone else hates them for being different."

Although Zara understood what he meant, she still felt uncomfortable hearing this. Still, she decided to ask him another question nonetheless. "And how long have you lived alone here?"

The elf paused momentarily before replying. "About three hundred years now."

She frowned deeply at this information. Three centuries?! This guy has been living here for nearly four decades! No wonder he looks so old. To think that a human could survive for so long in such harsh conditions... Wow!

Noticing her reaction, the elf chuckled softly. "Yeah, I suppose I am pretty ancient. But hey, at least I survived. Most other folks aren't as lucky."

Still feeling uneasy despite his kind demeanor, Zara asked another question. "By the way, what exactly are you?"

His smile vanished abruptly. "Oh yeah. Sorry about that. Let me introduce myself properly." He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "My name is Tarlac. Or more precisely, Master Tarlac."

Upon hearing his reply, Zara recalled seeing a similar title inscribed on his hat earlier. However, she failed to recall the meaning of the letters etched into the material. Now, she suddenly realized their significance. "Master Tarlac?" she repeated. "Is that your real name?"

"Yes. Well, sorta," he admitted reluctantly.

Confused, she tilted her head slightly to one side. "Sort of?"

Tarlac sighed heavily. "Look, I hate talking about this kinda stuff. It makes me feel weird."

Fearing that he may reveal too much if she continued pressing him, Zara decided to change the subject. "Okay... How about we start over fresh then? Can I call you Tarlac instead?"

He nodded hesitantly in agreement. "Sure... Go ahead."

Relieved by his response, Zara cleared her throat and spoke louder than usual. "Alright then, Tarlac. What exactly are you?"

Her voice was barely audible as it emerged from between clenched teeth. "Werewolves are basically creatures born with magical powers capable of transforming into wolves at will. Some individuals possess these special abilities while others don't."

"Magical powers?" Zara repeated incredulously. "Are you saying that you can transform into a wolf whenever you want?"

"Basically," answered the elf nonchalantly. Then, he added, "But I've never transformed into an animal before. Only people."

Hesitant to press him further, Zara changed the topic once again. "How did you learn magic?"

Tarlac hesitated briefly before answering. "Well, I guess you could say that I inherited it from my parents. Unfortunately, I haven't met either of them in quite some time."

Shocked by this news, Zara looked back and forth between him and the door leading outside. "Wait... Are your parents alive?"

"No," he replied flatly. "Both of my biological parents died shortly after giving birth to me."

After listening to this unexpected confession, Zara's expression grew pale. "Died?!"

Tarlac shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "I know. Pretty sad right?"

Zara shook her head vehemently as tears welled up inside her eyes. "Nooo!" she wailed loudly. "That's horrible! Who killed them?!"

The elf remained silent for a few seconds before speaking again. "A vampire named Aaros murdered them both after abducting me."

Horrified, Zara covered her mouth with both hands to stifle her cries. In hindsight, she regretted asking him about his past. Now, she wished she had kept quiet and left immediately. However, it was too late for regrets. She was stuck with him until morning. Therefore, she forced herself to remain calm as she tried to make sense of everything he told her thus far.

"Wait... So vampires actually exist?" she blurted out. "You mean... Your father really was a vampire?"

"Yep," confirmed Tarlac. "We all share the same bloodline which means that we're related in some way or another."

Realization dawned on Zara's face. "Wait... You're telling me that you're a descendent of Vlad Dracula?"

"Yup," he affirmed. "In fact, our family tree goes waaaaayyyy back."

As soon as he finished explaining, Zara felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach. She knew that he wasn't lying because she could clearly see the resemblance between him and Bram Stoker's infamous character. Not only did they share the same hair color but they also shared the exact facial structure. Furthermore, their mannerisms and speech patterns were eerily identical. If she weren't careful, she'd probably mistake him for Dracula himself.

Now, she understood why she instinctively disliked him. Her instincts warned her to steer clear of him just like every other human who came across him. That said, she couldn't help wondering why Tarlac wanted to hide his identity. Surely, there must have been a reason for it. Unless...? Could he possibly be a descendant of Vlad Dracula? Was it possible that he sought revenge against those who slaughtered his family members? Regardless, she needed answers to these questions. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to sleep soundly tonight.

Unsure how to proceed, Zara glanced at the clock hanging on the wall above the fireplace. The time displayed on it read 3:45 AM. "Can I talk to you for a second?" she asked hesitantly. "It'll take less than five minutes tops."

Tarlac cocked his head curiously at this request. "Of course," he agreed.

Sighing in relief, Zara stood up and began walking towards the hallway. At the very end of the passage, she turned the corner and opened the last door on the left. Inside, she found a staircase leading downwards. As she descended slowly, she heard footsteps approaching from behind. By the time she reached the bottom floor, Tarlac was already waiting for her in front of a large wooden door.

"Thank you," she murmured as she passed him by.

"Don't mention it," responded Tarlac as he followed closely beside her.

Once they arrived at the foot of the stairs, Zara stopped moving. "Um..."

"What's wrong?" inquired Tarlac.

"Sorry for keeping you up late," apologized Zara as she stared at the ground. "But I hope you won't mind if I spend the rest of the night here."

"Actually," the elf replied as he placed his hand on her shoulder, "that's perfectly fine."

Zara blinked rapidly when he said this. "Huh? Why?"

"I get lonely sometimes," admitted Tarlac. "Especially during the full moon."

Stunned by this admission, Zara stepped forward and embraced him tightly. "Me too," she whispered quietly in his ear.