Night fell over the village, and Alice retreated to a small, cozy room in the local inn. She lay on the bed, not out of exhaustion, but because she had no purpose for the waking hours. However, the silence was soon shattered by a chorus of loud chattering, rhythmic songs, and the clinking of glasses.
Drawn by the commotion, Alice stepped out onto the balcony. Below, the inn had transformed. The villagers had gathered for a vibrant celebration, filling the air with the scent of roasted food and the warmth of a party.
From the center of the room, the old man spotted her. "Girl! Come down and join us! Let's have a toast!" he called out.
Alice attempted to refuse with a calm wave, but the old man—Edward—would not take no for an answer. He beckoned her down, not to drink, but simply to witness the joy. Reluctantly, Alice descended the wooden stairs.
She was a breathtaking sight. Though she remained pale and carried an aura of gloom, her beauty was dazzling. As she reached the main floor, the room grew quieter. The men in the party watched her with hungry, thirsty eyes, their gazes lingering with a raw desire. In this remote village, no one had ever seen a woman as elegant or as striking as Alice.
"Welcome," Edward said, beaming. "I am the chief of this village. We find our joy in these small celebrations. Please, join us."
Alice drifted toward the bar, where a young woman was serving drinks.
"Hello, Alice! I'm Nancy, the owner of this inn," the woman said with a cheerful, albeit fragile, smile.
Alice paused, her eyes narrowing. "How do you know my name? Have we met?"
Nancy laughed, a bright sound that filled the space. "Oh, I heard you tell my father, Edward! I'm a friendly soul, I promise." She poured a glass of amber liquid and slid it toward Alice.
"I am headed for the Capital," Alice said, ignoring the small talk. "Do you know of a way to get there?"
"Tomorrow, the merchants and soldiers arrive from the Capital to collect gold and cotton," Nancy explained, never stopping her work. "If you ask, they might grant you passage in their carriages."
Alice took a cautious sip of the drink Nancy had provided. Her eyes widened. It was delicious—a bright, sweet flavor she hadn't tasted in years. She had long forgotten what real, flavorful cooking tasted like.
"What is this?" Alice asked, genuinely curious.
"It's just apple juice," Nancy replied with a shrug.
"You can make juice from apples?" Alice asked, surprised.
Nancy tilted her head. "Does your village not make fruit drinks? It's quite common here. Perhaps your people follow different rituals?"
For a heartbeat, Alice's pulse quickened. Careful, she thought. I almost gave myself away. She quickly returned to her drink, trying to ignore the predatory gazes of the men in the room.
Suddenly, the heavy door thudded open. A massive, muscular man stepped inside, radiating an intense, suffocating pressure. The villagers fell silent, clearing a path in fear. He stomped toward the bar and sat directly next to Alice.
"Nancy! A beer!" he barked, his voice a rude, gravelly deep.
Alice watched as Nancy's hands began to shake. The girl poured a foaming glass, her terror evident. The man let out a booming laugh, his eyes landing on Alice.
"Who is this beauty?" he sneered. "Hey, girl. Come to my room tonight. Maybe I'll make you my wife by morning."
Nancy frantically shook her head at Alice, a silent plea for her to stay away.
"Get away from me," Alice said, her voice dropping to a lethal, chilling register.
The man, whose name was Eleven, laughed even harder. "Hoh! A feisty one. I like that. You're going to make this night very beautiful for me."
Alice remained motionless, unbothered by his physical presence or his attempts at intimidation.
"Obey me now," Eleven threatened, leaning closer. "If you do, I'll let you live after I've had a taste of you. If not... I'll destroy you and drink your blood instead."
The villagers held their breath. No one dared to move. Eleven's hand reached out, intending to grab Alice's shoulder.
He never touched her.
In a blur of motion, Alice stood and caught his wrist mid-air. The sound of breaking bone echoed through the silent inn as she began to crush his arm with effortless strength. Eleven let out a gasp of shock.
"Sir Eleven, please!" Edward cried out, rushing forward. "Leave her be! Forgive her!"
In a fit of agonized rage, Eleven lashed out, kicking the village chief so hard the old man was sent flying, losing consciousness the moment he hit the floor.
Eleven roared, his face contorted in pain. He swung his other fist at Alice with everything he had, his intent purely murderous. Alice didn't even flinch. She caught his second fist as if it were a child's toy.
Eleven's bravado vanished. For the first time in his life, he was being overpowered—by a woman half his size. Alice's grip tightened until his bones ground together and the skin began to tear.
"Please! Let me go! Forgive me!" he screamed, his voice cracking with desperation.
"I already have a man," Alice hissed, her eyes igniting with a terrifying, red-orange glow. "And you, a fool who doesn't know his place, dared to put your disgusting hands on me? There won't be a next time."
She drove a fist into his stomach. The impact was like a cannon blast, sending Eleven soaring backward through the air. He crashed through the heavy oak doors and landed in the dirt outside, unconscious and broken.
Alice turned to see Edward regaining his senses. He looked at her with awe and thanked her for teaching the brute a lesson. Alice merely smirked, turned on her heel, and walked back upstairs.
As she drifted into a restless sleep, a familiar, chilling voice resonated within her mind:
"I am here... Alice."