The blood wasn't hers

Zhilakoa's eyes fluttered open, her mind foggy and her body still heavy with grief. But she knew she had to keep moving, for Lyra's sake and for her own. She forced herself to sit up, and Eryn was immediately by her side, helping her steady herself.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes filled with concern. Zhilakoa nodded, taking a deep breath. "I need to get up," she said, her voice still shaky. "I need to help find Lyra." Eryn nodded, and together they made their way to the main room, where the others were gathered. They were discussing plans to investigate the murder scene and search for Lyra.

"We need to be careful," one of them said, a tall and muscular man with a scar above his eyebrow. "We don't know who did this or what they're capable of." "But we can't just sit around and do nothing," Zhilakoa said, her voice firm. "We need to find Lyra and make sure she's safe." The group nodded in agreement, and Eryn put a hand on Zhilakoa's shoulder. "We'll do this together," he said. "We'll find Lyra and bring her home."

The group set out towards Zhilakoa's family home, ready to face whatever lay ahead. Zhilakoa's heart raced as they approached the house, her mind bracing herself for the horrors that awaited them.

"Let's split up and search the house," one of the men suggested. "We need to find any clues that might lead us to Lyra."

As the group began to search the house, Zhilakoa's eyes landed on the gruesome scene before her. Her family's lifeless bodies lay scattered across the backyard, their once warm and loving faces now frozen in death. The sight was too much for her to bear, and she felt her knees buckle beneath her. She fell to the ground, her body racked with sobs and her stomach churning with nausea. Eryn quickly came to her side, pulling her away from the horror before her.

"Come on, Zhilakoa," he whispered, his voice soft and comforting. "Let's get you out of here. You don't need to see this again."

Zhilakoa nodded, her eyes streaming with tears as Eryn led her away from the backyard. The others remained behind, searching for any clues.

The oldest man, who seemed to be the leader of the group, examined the bodies carefully. He noticed strange scars and marks on their skin, and his expression turned grave. "This was no ordinary attack," he said, his voice low and serious. "These wounds are consistent with the attacks of a manananggal. "The others looked at him with confusion, and he explained, "A manananggal is a creature from our mythology. It's a monster that can separate its upper body from its lower body, and it feeds on human flesh." The group listened in horror as the old man continued, "We need to bury the bodies as soon as possible. We can't let them remain here, or the manananggal may come back for more." With heavy hearts, the group began to make arrangements for a burial. Zhilakoa, still reeling from the shock of her family's death, couldn't bear to think about the details. She just wanted to find Lyra and make sure she was safe.

As the group finished the burial, they returned to Eryn's cottage, their faces somber and their hearts heavy with grief. Vulcan, the oldest man in the group, approached Zhilakoa and introduced himself. "I'm Vulcan, one of the high rankers in the Order of the Oak," he said, his eyes filled with kindness and concern. Zhilakoa nodded, recognizing the name. Eryn had told her about the Order and their mission to protect the world from supernatural threats and to guide those whom the crystal had chosen. "What is a manananggal?" she asked.

"Vulcan's eyes seemed to cloud over, as if the mere mention of the manananggal brought back dark memories. "The manananggal is a creature of darkness, a monster that feasts on human flesh and blood. It's said to be able to separate its upper body from its lower body, allowing it to fly and move with an unnatural speed and agility."

Zhilakoa's mind raced with the implications. "So, it's like a vampire?" Vulcan shook his head. "Worse. The manananggal is a creature of pure malevolence, with no regard for life or humanity. It's a creature of the night, and its very presence seems to draw the light out of the world."

He paused, collecting his thoughts. "The manananggal is also said to have a peculiar weakness - it's unable to resist the scent of salt and vinegar. But that's a small comfort, given its formidable powers."

Zhilakoa's eyes widened in horror. "And Lyra?" she asked, her heart racing. "Do you think she's still alive? "Vulcan's expression was grim. "We don't know for sure, but we have to assume she might have hidden and escaped. Or...or she might not have been so lucky."

As the sun began to set, the group made preparations to move to the safe house. They knew they had to get out of there before nightfall, when the manananggal was most active. "Let's move out," Vulcan said. "We'll get to the safe house and regroup. We can't stay here any longer."

Zhilakoa nodded, her heart still heavy with grief. As they made their way through the forest, the darkness seemed to close in around them. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, that unblinking eyes were trained on them from the shadows.

Meanwhile, far away in the forest, Lyra regained consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open, and she was met with a sight that made her blood run cold. She was lying in a small clearing, surrounded by trees that seemed to loom over her like sentinels. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay, and Lyra's stomach churned with a wave of nausea.

As she sat up, she realized that she was covered in blood. It was everywhere - on her clothes, her skin, even her hair. Lyra's heart raced as she scrambled to her feet, her mind crippling with panic. She looked around frantically, but there was no sign of anyone else. No sign of the monster. Lyra's hands were shaking as she examined herself. She was battered and bruised, but there were no visible wounds. No cuts, no gashes, no signs of injury. But the blood...oh God, the blood. It was everywhere. She stumbled forward, her legs trembling beneath her. She had to get out of there, had to find her family, had to find help. But where was she? And how had she gotten there? As she ran through the forest, the trees seemed to blur together. Lyra's heart pounded in her chest, and her breath came in ragged gasps. She stumbled over roots and fallen branches, but she kept going. She had to keep going. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lyra saw a glimmer of light through the trees. She burst through the underbrush and found herself at the edge of a small stream. The water was crystal clear, and Lyra dropped to her knees, cupping her hands and bringing the water to her lips. It was cool and refreshing, and Lyra drank greedily.

As she looked up, she saw her reflection in the water. Her eyes were wild and haunted, her face smeared with blood. It dawned on her that she had no idea who she was anymore. She had no idea what had happened to her, or how she had escaped the monster. She was disoriented and confused, her mind foggy, as she realized the blood wasn't hers.