The Immortal

William pulled his wrist away, watching as she gasped, her glowing eyes focusing on him with renewed clarity. Though she didn’t speak, the fear and confusion in her gaze were plain as day. She wasn’t out of danger yet, but she’d crossed back from death’s doorstep.

“Well, that’s interesting,” he mused. One of her eyes had gone proper blood red, while the other remained amber. Rather gave him a good idea what his own eyes might look like now.

“Looks like I’ve bought you a bit more time,” he muttered, wiping the blood from his wrist. “Proper fighter, aren’t you?”

She sat up slowly, wobbling like a newborn colt, but strength was clearly returning to her limbs. Her eyes darted about the cavern, taking in the alien machinery and surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. She examined her own hands, flexing her fingers like someone trying on a new pair of gloves.

“Been stuck in there quite a while, I’d reckon,” William said softly, not expecting a response.

She didn’t answer, but something flickered in her eyes—recognition? Gratitude? Bloody impossible to tell, really. She was still too alien, too far removed from anything human to read properly.

Then her head snapped up, eyes fixed on him. Her amber and red eyes narrowed, and William spotted the change in her demeanor—a sudden, primal hunger. Her fangs, which hadn’t been there moments before, shot out from her gums, sharp as anything.

"Oh, bloody hell," William muttered, stepping back. "I know that look all too well."

Before he could react, she lunged at him with a speed that matched his own, her body still unsteady but driven by newfound hunger. William dodged to the side, only just avoiding her strike.

"Steady on, love!" he called out, hands raised defensively. "We’ve only just got you back on your feet. Bit rude to bite the hand that feeds you, innit?"

She stumbled forward, her limbs still not quite coordinated, but her mismatched eyes remained locked on him like a heat-seeking missile.

"Suppose I’ll have to knock you out now?" he sighed, knowing full well it’d be a right tall order—her bloodlust had her just as strong and quick as he was normally.

Her heterochromatic eyes bore into him as she hissed like a particularly miffed cobra. Suddenly, she shot towards him at incredible speed. William tapped his foot against the ground, just enough to launch himself skyward. As she passed beneath him, he grabbed her head and, using his momentum, sent her flying toward the ice wall like a wayward cricket ball. The impact was properly thunderous, leaving the wall riddled with cracks.

Rather concerned he might’ve overdone it, he rushed to check on her. She was still conscious, mind you, trying to growl at him though it came out more like a weak mewl. Not fancying the idea of her dying from lack of blood, he grabbed the top of her head—a proper safe way to handle her, that, no chance of getting bitten. He dashed out of the cave with her in tow, bringing her straight to the unconscious dire wolf. It was the best source of blood they had at the moment. The moment she caught wind of it, she was on it like a fox in a henhouse, fangs sinking deep.

William stepped back, watching the hybrid woman sink her fangs into the dire wolf, her primal hunger taking over completely. Her body hunched over the beast, movements quick and desperate as she drank. It was a proper disturbing sight, but William couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved—better the wolf than him, after all.

He rubbed the back of his neck, still shaken by the speed and ferocity of her attack. She’s got strength, he thought, and speed to match. William had barely had time to react before she’d lunged, and it hadn’t escaped him that, with a little more coordination, she might’ve actually gotten the better of him. He wasn’t used to facing someone—or something—with such a raw, unrefined power so similar to his own. Even the wolf was far slower than him.

The sound of her drinking faded as she slowed down, her body becoming less frantic, more controlled. Slowly, she lifted her head from the dire wolf's neck, blood staining her pale lips. Her mismatched eyes—one amber, one blood red—gleamed with something other than hunger now. She looked at William with a mixture of confusion and recognition, like she was trying to piece together what had just happened.

"Feeling better?" William asked, crouching to make himself seem less dangerous. He also kept his distance as he wasn’t keen on getting too close. Those mismatched unsettling eyes stared into him as she wiped her mouth clean.

She didn’t respond—no words, just a tilt of her head and a sharp exhale. William took it as a sign that she was more in control of herself. For now, he thought to himself but he was aware that it could change any moment.

"Right then, looks like you’ve calmed down a bit," he said, cautiously approaching. "Let’s try this again, eh?"

She blinked, her gaze shifting from the dead wolf to William, and for the first time, she stood up fully—less wobbly than before, her posture straighter. He took it as a sign that she didn’t see him as a foe anymore so he also stood up. But all his muscles were still tensed, ready to move if needed be. He wasn’t about to lose his second chance just because he trusted a random stranger.

William pointed at himself, "William." He tapped his chest again, "I’m William."

Her eyes followed his hand, the amber one narrowing slightly as if trying to understand. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out—just a dry rasp. Frustration flickered in her gaze, and William stepped forward a bit more, repeating himself, "William. That’s me."

He wasn’t sure if she’d understood, but she mimicked him, tapping her own chest hesitantly. No words, though. Her mouth moved, but the sound didn’t quite form. William figured her vocal cords were either unused or damaged.

William raised a brow, watching her attempt at mimicking him. She was learning fast—primitive, maybe, but there was something behind those mismatched eyes.

"One step at a time, I suppose," he sighed. He took out a small stick from his left pocket. He found the stick a few days ago. It was a fantastic stick so he decided to keep it. He knelt down and showed her the stick. As fantastic as the stick was, he still wanted to teach her English so that they can communicate more easily. "Stick," he said with a serious face. Then he picked up a handful of snow from the ground, "Snow." He picked up a rock. "Rock."

She watched him with unblinking eyes, her gaze shifting from the stick to the snow, then to the rock. Her brow furrowed, and she looked up at him, almost as if questioning the purpose of his peculiar exercise.

"Stick," William repeated, holding it out. "Snow. Rock."

He tapped each item again, speaking slowly, giving her time to process. She narrowed her eyes, leaning closer to inspect each one as though trying to understand how these simple things might hold any importance. Her amber and red eyes flickered with concentration.

After a long moment, she reached out, touching the stick in his hand with the tip of her finger. “St…tick,” she rasped, her voice low and raw like a faint whisper carried on the wind. She then tried again, her gaze sharpening a little. “Stick.”

William's eyes lit up, "That's right, mate. Stick!" He handed the stick to her, watching her grip it awkwardly. She examined it closely, tracing its rough surface with her thumb, as if trying to understand what made it worth a name.

"Good start, lass." It felt weird saying that. He was only 25 years old. Shaking his thoughts away, he gestured to the snow. “Snow,” he repeated, letting the word drawl out slowly. She reached down, gathering a small handful, and mouthed the word, her lips barely forming the shape.

"Sssnow," she murmured unsteadily. Then, in one abrupt motion, she pressed the cold handful to her mouth, taking in a bite of the snow. Her eyes widened, and she jerked back, startled, spitting out flecks of ice and glaring at the offending snow as if it had betrayed her.

William chuckled, "A bit of a shock, that? First time tasting snow, I imagine. Not the thing to eat if you're hungry."

She shot him a glare, a hint of defiance mixed with embarrassment. Then, still glaring, she mimicked his final word: “Rock.”

“Good, you’ve got it!” William clapped his hands together, giving her an approving nod. She looked at him, seeming both puzzled and pleased by his reaction. It was an odd sort of moment, but for the first time, he felt like he was reaching her—breaking through that layer of primal instinct and starting to awaken something more conscious.

He pointed to himself again, tapping his chest. “William.”

She hesitated but mimicked him, touching her own chest. “Jill,” she whispered.

“Jill,” he repeated, his voice softening. A name for herself, perhaps? One born of mimicry, but a name all the same.

They sat in silence for a moment. William sighed and lay down, looking up at the stars. He couldn't help but marvel at the strangeness of it all. Here he was, in some godforsaken ancient, frozen wilderness, teaching language to a creature—a woman—who was both foreign and eerily similar to himself. There was something profound about it, as if he were witnessing the very beginning of advanced intelligence, the first stirrings of language.

He sat up. "Jill," he paused for a moment, thoughtful. "That's you now, I suppose."

A flicker of understanding passed through her expression. She clutched the stick to her chest as if it were a precious artefact, her eyes glancing at him with a new sort of awareness. It wasn’t gratitude exactly, but something close—a glimmer of connection.

“So, Jill,” William began, leaning back on his heels, “what in the world are we going to do with you?”

She cocked her head, as though considering the question, though he doubted she understood it. The way she held herself had changed; she seemed less wild, more focused. There was something almost human about her posture now, a mimicry of his own movements, like a child imitating a teacher.

"Right then," he muttered to himself as he stood up. "Couldn't just leave you here now, could we?"

He gestured for her to follow. Slowly, she stood, clutching her “stick” like a lifeline. William turned toward the mouth of the cave, where the icy wind howled and whipped snow into chaotic swirls. He took a few steps forward, then paused, glancing back to make sure she was following. She was, her gaze darting to every corner, every shadow as if taking in the world for the first time. As they moved through the desolate landscape, he kept his pace steady, giving her time to adjust. They trudged through the snow together, leaving the shadows of the cave behind. William cast occasional glances at her, trying to decipher the expressions that flickered across her face—curiosity and awe.

They reached a ridge that overlooked the frozen wasteland below, and William stopped, taking a moment to look out over the expanse of white, stretching as far as the eye could see. Jill stood beside him, clutching the stick in her hand and gazing at the horizon, her expression a blend of wonder and trepidation.

“You’ve got a lot to learn, don’t you?” he said, half to himself. She didn’t respond, but he could feel her watching him closely, studying his movements, the way he carried himself.

As they began their descent, he noticed her movements becoming smoother, less tentative. She was learning, adapting at a pace that was almost frightening. He could feel her presence beside him, a strange mix of innocence and primal energy that made him both cautious and protective.

They walked in silence for a long time, the only sounds were their footsteps crunching in the snow and the wind whistling through the icy landscape. At last, they reached a small clearing sheltered by a circle of ancient, twisted trees. William turned to face her, gesturing for her to sit. She complied, her gaze never leaving his face.

“Alright,” he said, settling down across from her. He pulled his coat tighter around him, feeling the imaginary chill bite into his skin. “We’re going to have to find you something to wear, for one thing. Can’t have you freezing to death, can we?”

He sighed. He took off his coat, leaving his lone white shirt to fight off the imaginary cold. "Here you go, wear this." It was fortunate, really. It was a Victorian-era long coat so it reached her feet and covered her proper. She just grabbed it and didn't know what to do with it. He sighed again and got up, cautiously reaching towards her and helping her wear the coat. After it was done, he looked at her. She looked like she was wearing an oversized raincoat. Still, it was better than nothing.

Then he gestured towards her, "Stay here, I'll be back."

He walked off to grab some more sticks, to make some fire. Though he didn't need them to keep himself warm, it was still necessary to keep away the predators of the wilderness. As he heard some noise, he looked back only to find Jill also following him. He forgot for a moment that she didn't understand English. He sighed. That was his fault. Still, it didn't matter. He grabbed a couple more sticks and grabbed two rocks. That'll do. He thought before going back to the clearing with Jill in tow.

He organized the sticks to start a fire. After that, he grabbed the two rocks.

William knelt by the small pile of sticks, eyeing the rocks in his hands. He was still learning to control his newfound strength, but he figured he could manage to strike these stones together without shattering them. Glancing over, he saw Jill crouched nearby, watching him with rapt attention, her mismatched eyes gleaming in the dimming light.

“Alright, time to show you a bit of human ingenuity, Jill,” he muttered, raising the stones in his hands. He brought them together with a quick, forceful strike—only to hear a resounding crack! as one of the rocks split cleanly in two, sending fragments skittering across the clearing.

Jill blinked, visibly startled, and William winced, looking down at the shards in his hand. “Right. Well, maybe a gentler approach,” he muttered sheepishly, glancing her way. She tilted her head, clearly curious about this new display of strength, and William could feel her gaze on him as he tried again, softer this time.

This time, he tapped the rocks more cautiously, barely grazing them together. Sparks flickered, scattering in the air, and the dry kindling caught a faint ember. He blew on it gently, encouraging the ember to grow, until a small, steady flame blossomed within the sticks.

“There we go,” he said with a grin, leaning back to admire his work. “Fire.”

Jill’s eyes widened, and she shifted closer to the flame, her hands stretching out cautiously to feel the warmth. The light cast a soft, flickering glow over her face, highlighting her intense, inquisitive expression. She glanced at him, a mix of awe and hesitation in her gaze.

“Fire,” William repeated, gesturing to the flames. She mimicked his hand movement, reaching out toward the fire, but stopped just short, as if unsure whether to touch it or not. He held up a hand to signal caution. “Warm, but dangerous. Not something to play with.”

He leaned closer to the flames, letting her see his hand hover just over them, feeling the heat without touching. After watching him, Jill slowly extended her hand as well, mirroring his movements with unnatural precision. She gasped softly as she felt the warmth, then pulled her hand back, glancing at him with something almost like excitement.

She smiled, a small, almost tentative expression, but one that held genuine joy, and he found himself smiling back, feeling a strange surge of pride at this small moment.

“Now, if we’re going to keep this fire going, we’ll need more wood.” He got up, gesturing around the clearing. “Sticks. Like before.” He pointed to the surrounding trees and gestured as if gathering, hoping she’d catch his meaning.

Jill followed his gesture, her gaze moving to the trees, and after a beat, she nodded, a hint of understanding in her eyes. She stood, still clutching the stick he’d given her like it was a prized possession, and began to search the ground for more branches, mimicking the way he had picked up kindling.

William watched her gather a few smaller sticks, her expression one of deep concentration. She looked to him for approval, holding up the bundle of sticks she’d collected. He gave her a nod of encouragement, and she brought them over, carefully placing them near the fire with a look of accomplishment.

"Now, you've got it." He looked over. Unable to contain his urge, he patted her on the head. His heart melted and was reminded of a dream he had when he was young. He'd always wanted a little sister. And now, it seemed like he got one now. He smiled, pleased.

“Good work, Jill,” he praised, adding the sticks to the flames. They sparked and crackled, the fire growing a little brighter, casting warm shadows across the clearing. She watched it with fascination, her eyes reflecting the light like a pair of precious stones—one red, one amber.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the clearing, rattling the branches overhead. The flames flickered, and William instinctively raised his hand, muttering a curse as he felt the imaginary chill seep through his shirt.

As he did, something strange happened. The flames flared up suddenly, a surge of heat and light that leapt almost too high, casting an intense glow that bathed the clearing in fiery orange. He jerked his hand back in surprise, staring at the fire with wide eyes. For a brief moment, he could have sworn the flames had responded to his touch.

Jill looked up at him, startled, her gaze shifting between him and the now-bright flames as if sensing the change as well. She tilted her head, studying him with a curious intensity, as though she’d seen something in him she hadn’t noticed before.

“Did… did you see that?” he asked, mostly to himself, flexing his fingers as he tried to understand what had just happened. He tried to do it again but it didn't happen. Unwilling to believe that, he tried harder. He used all of his will to fuel his desire. His desire for magic. And with that, the fire responded, crackling louder, the flames rising slightly in response to his silent command.

Jill’s eyes widened, and she took a step back, her expression a mix of awe and fear. William lowered his hand, feeling a strange thrill course through him. It wasn’t just the vampire strength or speed—this was something new, something… more. Magic...

“Magic,” he murmured, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Looks like I’ve got more than just fangs, eh?”

He looked over at Jill, who was still watching him, her eyes filled with wonder. “It’s alright,” he said gently. “Nothing to be afraid of. Seems I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, that’s all.”

He laughed, like a child getting a birthday present for the first time. And for him, this new magic was all the gift he needed.