Chapter 2 – Rebirth in Darkness

Blood soaked the rocky ground, seeping from Lyra’s broken body. Her breathing was shallow, uneven. The pain should’ve ended her life—but instead, it began to fade.

Her eyes fluttered open in the dim, cold cave. She was still alive. Her heart was still beating. Why?

With trembling fingers, she touched her face. Her skin felt… wrong. Strange. Something dark writhed beneath the surface—black veins, thin and sinister, stretched under her skin like roots. She turned to the pool of water beside her, catching a reflection of herself.

Her eyes were glowing red.

Her breath caught. Her pulse spiked. That wasn’t her. That couldn’t be her.

---

Outside, distant voices echoed. Footsteps thudded against the ground. Angry shouts carried through the trees.

“Find her before sunrise!”

“She’s not human anymore! The chief wants her dead!”

They were still hunting her. Still trying to finish what they started.

A heat rushed through Lyra’s veins. Her fear was still there—but it was no longer alone. Something inside her was changing. The wounds across her body began to close. Bite marks and gashes faded before her eyes. Her muscles stopped trembling.

She sat up slowly. Her body no longer felt weak. Her fingers curled into a fist.

This wasn’t fear anymore.

It was fury.

---

She couldn’t go back. The village would never take her in—not like this. They would kill her, no matter how she pleaded.

But she also couldn’t stay hidden forever.

She stepped out of the cave. Cold wind greeted her, bringing the scent of leaves and soil. The forest was quiet. Still.

Then she looked down—into the water again—and recoiled.

It was her face. But it was twisted, unfamiliar. Black veins under her skin. Crimson eyes glowing like embers.

What had they done to her?

A sudden sound snapped her focus—footsteps, fast and closing in.

“She’s here!”

Three men burst through the trees, weapons drawn. Their faces full of hate.

“Kill her before she escapes!”

A blade flashed in the moonlight, lunging for her throat.

Lyra didn’t think. She moved.

She ducked low, her hand flying up to catch the attacker’s wrist. Her grip tightened—and crack! The man screamed as his arm snapped.

The other two froze in shock.

“What the hell?!”

Lyra’s eyes widened too. She hadn’t meant to break anything. She’d only grabbed him. But her strength was unnatural—inhuman.

They charged again.

But she was faster. She moved like a shadow. One man lunged with a sword; she dodged and kicked him square in the chest. He flew several meters back.

The third tried to sneak behind her. She turned before he reached her. Her hand shot out—and snap!—his neck twisted violently.

Silence.

Lyra stared at the body. Her hands shook.

She had just killed someone.

The shock hit her like a punch. But there was no time to process it—more footsteps approached. Dozens.

---

“There she is!”

Torches lit up the forest, bobbing between the trees. Figures emerged from the shadows. Her neighbors. Her so-called friends.

“Chase her down! Don’t let her get away!”

They saw her now as a monster. Not Lyra. Not a girl. Just something to be destroyed.

She wanted to run. Her legs tensed, ready.

But something inside her refused.

No. She wasn’t prey.

She was done being hunted.

For the first time in her life… she smiled.

---

The smile felt strange. Not warm. Not kind. It was sharp. Cold. She had once been the quiet girl—afraid of blood, afraid of anger.

But now, she felt something different rising in her chest.

Not panic.

Power.

The villagers closed in. Their torches cast wild shadows through the trees. Their angry voices filled the air.

Lyra’s heart was steady.

They had tried to kill her once. They’d left her to die.

And now?

They would pay.

A familiar man stepped forward—Johan, the one who used to sell her food at the market.

“Don’t let her leave here alive!”

She didn’t hesitate.

She moved. Fast.

One second, she was standing still. The next, she was right in front of Johan.

Her fist struck his chest—BAM!—and he went flying. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he hit the ground.

Gasps erupted from the crowd.

“She’s not human!”

Lyra yanked the spear from Johan’s hands and snapped it like a twig.

Three more men charged at her with axes and swords. Their swings were wild, desperate.

Lyra moved with ease. Her body knew what to do—like it had always known.

An axe came at her. She crouched.

A sword jabbed toward her heart. She caught the blade with her bare hand.

The man’s face went pale.

Her red eyes locked on his.

With a twist, she pulled the weapon free and struck.

Blood sprayed across the grass.

He fell.

The others screamed and ran back.

But she wasn’t done.

She kicked the axe-wielder into a tree. His skull cracked against the trunk.

Silence fell.

She stood in the center of a circle—bodies at her feet, blood on her hands.

She should’ve felt something.

Guilt. Shame. Horror.

But all she felt was… hunger.

The hunger to hunt.

---

The remaining villagers turned to run.

But she didn’t let them.

She dashed forward—faster than before. A blur in the night.

Two more men fell with sharp cries.

The rest threw down their torches and fled. The flames licked the dry grass, spreading fast.

Soon, the forest was on fire.

Lyra stood in the center of it all—flames dancing around her, smoke curling in the air.

They came to kill her. And now, they ran like frightened animals.

Their fear fed her.

She’d spent her life terrified.

Now, they were the ones afraid.

She moved toward a fallen body. Her hand trembled as she reached down.

It was a woman.

Blood stained her clothes. Her eyes wide, face pale.

“Lillian…” Lyra whispered.

The woman who once gave her shelter.

Now, she stared at Lyra like she was death itself.

“Please… don’t…” Lillian’s voice was barely audible.

Lyra froze.

The blood on her hands burned.

She backed away, shaking.

No. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t her.

But if it wasn’t her…

Then who was she?

---

Her legs gave out. The world tilted. Smoke choked the air. Screams faded.

She had to run. She had to disappear.

Then, a new presence.

From the shadows beneath the trees, a figure appeared. Cloaked in black. Tall. Still.

His eyes gleamed.

He didn’t speak with fear.

He spoke with certainty.

“You’ve finally awakened.”

His voice was low. Cold.

Lyra stared at him.

She didn’t know who he was—but something about him chilled her more than any fire ever could.

This wasn’t just a stranger.

This was something else.

Like a wolf… staring down its prey.

Before she could respond—

Darkness swallowed her whole.