Voices seemed to call to him. Far away and muffled. He could feel his conciousness floating back to him. The first sense that overwhelmed him completely was his hearing - and suddenly two voices could be heard clear as day.

"You sure he not a bloody?" One of the voices sported a thick eastern accent, deep and muscular.

"No Bloodmoon would be stupid enough to get this close to the camp. Only if they had a death wish." The other voice belonged to a woman, strict and wary.

"Then where the hell did this kid come from? And why is the Alpha obsessin' over him?"

The next sense to come back to him was touch. He gripped the soft material beneath him between his fingers, making fists. He shifted his head and it sunk into a soft pillow that soothed his growing headache. The cool air that touched his naked skin the night prior was no longer there, this time he was clothed. He could feel the cloth rubbing against his chest everytime he took a breath.

Next - smell. In through the nose, a nauseating smell overwhelmed him. It was powerful and it surrounded him completely, making him dizzy. It smelt of fresh evergreen and campfire smoke. It circled through his lungs and set them on fire, leaving behind an impossible warmth as he drew each and every breath. He had never smelt something so... intoxicating before.

His eyes soon fluttered open. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. He was in a bed, and in a room he didn't recognize. He glanced towards the direction he had heard the voices coming from. Two people, a male and a female, were standing in the doorway in the far right corner. They seemed too distracted to notice that Cyrus was now awake. Cyrus didn't take much time to analyze them as he seemed more intrigued in the room he was currently in. It was spacious, had a very log type cabin feel to it. A bookcase leaned against one of the walls. Books seemed to be all over the floor of the room, most left wide open and turned to random pages. A desk in the corner of the room had papers - no, sketches littering it. A trashcan was next to it, filled with crumbled up pieces of paper, filled to the brim and almost overflowing. Cyrus couldn't see was was drawn on all of those papers from the angle at which he was laying, on what that person so desperately tried to perfect over and over again.

A window to the far left was wide open, and that's where the bright sunlight was peeking through. Outside were trees upon trees, a forest. This house, wherever he was, was in the middle of a forest. Cyrus frowned when he noticed a few scratches on the walls beside the windowsill, deep and long. He didn't think much of it at the time though.

The bed he was laying in was covered in a blue and white handwoven quilt. It was warm, if not a little itchy. He now knew where that intoxicating smell was coming from. Just whose bed was this? Whose room was he in? Cyrus blinked and cautiously moved his eyes back to the now bickering pair. Who were these people? They hadn't tied him up or have done anything bad to him. Someone had dressed him, taken him here. They had helped him.

Cyrus squeezed his eyes shut. He wished he knew why he was here, the history of this world and who these people were. Who he had to befriend and who he had to avoid. How he could possibly become popular and get out of this world as soon as he possibly could.

'Sai?' He tried again, this time harder. He focused all of his thoughts on trying to call on Sai.

He couldn't of possibly have been left in this world alone, right? Alone, with no guidance or someone telling him how to act or what to do. He knew nothing about the body he was now residing in - only a name. Cyrus. Which he had got from a mysterious voice in the woods who had lead him here in the first place. To that man. At the thought of that man, Cyrus opened his eyes, feeling the urge to cry again. And he did. He cried. Why was he crying? What reason did he have to cry? Why did the sight of that man make him cry? Does he have something to do with this body's mysterious past?

He raised a hand to wipe away his tears with a stunned expression when the bed creaked. The pair standing at the door had ceased conversation when they had noticed he was finally awake. Cyrus blinked and looked up to catch their stares, now sitting up.

The man, who had long dark brown hair that hovered just above his shoulders, sported a wide eyed and shocked expression. The girl, standing to his left, was leaning against the door with crossed arms. Her expression was cool, unfazed. Her dark eyes pierced his soul.

"I've gotta go tell Lanny he's awake, keep an eye on em.'" The boy finally picked up his jaw and stumbled out the words with his thick accent, already half way out the door and rushing down the hallway.

Cyrus frowned. Lanny? Who was Lanny? Now that he thought back on it, the way they were speaking earlier, it was strange. The words they were using, 'Bloodmoon', 'Camp', 'Alpha.' Why were they talking like that? Just where exactly was he? Had he travelled to a different part of the world, where talking like that was normal? But... the word Alpha... doesn't that have something to do with wolves? Yes, an alpha is the leader of a wolf pack. Why were they talking about wolves?

Cyrus rubbed at his temples as he grew even more confused. He swung his legs over the bed and decided to stand up. The wooden floor was cold to his bare feet. The girl still standing at the door was watching him like a hawk as he walked slowly towards the window. She didn't do or say anything though, so Cryus continued until he was standing right in front of the open window.

It was bright. Cyrus covered his eyes with his hands to block his eyes from the overwhelmingly bright sun high up in the clear blue sky. He was on the second story of this house. He peeked his head outside to get a better look of his surroundings. In front of the house was a small open field. There were small crowds of people packed all over this field. Some of them were talking and laughing around with each other like they were old friends, others were throwing around a football. He watched as a line of about four or five people ran into into the woods as if they were all going on an evening jog, all wearing normal clothes. Why were there so many people here? So many young people as well. Maybe this was some sort of camp, as the pair had mentioned earlier. Cyrus supposed that made sense.

He looked more at the surrounding tall pine trees. They seemed to go on for miles, an endless sea of green. But Lucas noticed what looked to be a cliff maybe a mile away?

Cyrus placed his hands on the windowsill unconsciously, only to look down and frown. The scratches on the windowsill were deeper, more prominent. Cyrus traced his fingers along them. There were four on each far side, each about an inch apart. Cyrus grew confused. It was almost as if something had climbed inside? Something not... human.

He was too distracted to notice the two sets of footsteps approaching the door. He only turned around when he heard that heavily accented voice, "See, I told ya' he's awake."

Cyrus met those golden eyes that he had recognized from last night. That smell, that intoxicating scent, now was everywhere. The man pushed past the pair and took slow steps towards Cyrus. His eyes were starting to water again. His heart was beating unusually fast, like a drum in his chest. Each step the man took towards Cyrus, each step that slowly closed the distance between them put Cyrus more and more on edge. There were so many emotions fighting over each other, fighting to retain dominance that Cyrus could barely think, barely breathe. It was almost as if this body had suppressed all of these emotions and Cyrus was forced to feel each and every one of them at the exact same time.

And then, with that moon like smile the man shined only at Cyrus, he spoke. With a voice like honey, with a voice that shot through his ears like lightning, with a voice that now made the tears from his eyes flow unrelentingly, he said,

"Hello again."

Cyrus then turned and vaulted out of the window. Cyrus landed on the green grass with both feet firmly planted on the ground. He expected to break his leg, considering he had jumped from the second story, but he didn't. Cyrus didn't question how strange that was and decided to sprint towards the trees without looking back. He ran as if his very life depended on it. He rushed past the people who only stared after him.

That man... he scared Cyrus. Overwhelmed by all of these sudden feelings of loss, familiarity, and sorrow - it was too much for his heart to handle. Cyrus feared if he stayed in that room a second longer, surrounded by that intoxicating secent that made his head swirl, his heart would explode. Cyrus did the only thing that made sense to him in that moment, he ran. Far away from the camp full of strangers and into the woods that welcomed him with open arms.

Cyrus rushed through the trees, now finding it easier to see where he was going compared to last night. He didn't notice the branches slashing at his cheeks, or the rocks that pierced or the dirt that stained his naked feet. He just ran. Ran until he reached a clearing. He slowed to a stop, not even out of breath, as he now peered over a tall cliff. The cliff he had noticed earlier. He looked over the edge and saw that there were only more trees. But that drop - it must of been a couple hundred or so feet.

He took a deep breath and stepped away, glancing to look over his shoudlers to ensure he hadn't been followed. He was sure he was alone as he turned back around. Maybe if had said Sai's voice instead of thinking it, maybe that would work.

Cyrus took a deep breath before speaking in a soft voice, "Sai?"

Nothing. He tried again, louder this time, "Are you there? Please, I need you." At the lack of an answer, Cyrus became frustrated. "Damn it!" He hissed, kicking a rock and watching it fly over the edge, into the endless sea of trees.

And then he was surrounded by the overwhelming scent of pine and firewood. He snapped his head around, searching the lining of trees. He didn't know how his nose could pick up that scent, but he immediately felt alert. He searched for that man to walk out of the trees. For those golden brown eyes to meet his own. But what came out of the trees wasn't a man, but a wolf.

It stepped out from the trees slowly, its golden eyes locked onto the now tense Cyrus. Cyrus took a few steps back until he was at the edge of the cliff, his heart now beating in fear. This wolf was huge, twice the size of a regular sized wolf. Its coat was thick and grey. Cyrus didn't know how to react so he just stood still, watching the wolf's every movement. He expected it to growl, or to pounce on him - but it did the complete opposite. It stopped where it was and whined. It then sat down about a foot away from where Cyrus was standing, continuing to whine. There was something strange about its eyes. Something familiar. The color, the intensity behind them.

Why wasn't this wolf attacking him? Was it waiting for him to make some kind of move? Or maybe it was cornering Cyrus to the edge of this cliff. If Cyrus tried to walk away, would the wolf suddenly attack him? Cyrus swallowed the lump in his throat and straightened, taking a minute to calm his beating heart. The wolf only watched him with curiosity, tilting its head.

Cyrus decided to take a small step forward, but in doing so, the wolf stood up on all fours again. Cyrus stopped, tensing up again. He put his hands up defensively as the wolf whined again and turned his head towards the woods, then back towards Cyrus. Cyrus didn't pick up on this. He was more focused on staying alive.

The wolf then whined again, louder this time. Then, a gust of wind rushed past them. The trees rustled harshly in the cool wind, and the intoxicating scent blew towards Cyrus. The wind blew through the wolf's thick hair and then the wolf closed its eyes. Cyrus watched as the hair on the wolf became shorter until what was left was skin. The paws become hands, its limps now arms and legs. Its ears became smaller and covered by chestnut brown hair. Those golden brown eyes opened again and this time what faced Cyrus wasn't a wolf - it was a man. That man.

He stood to his feet, eyes locked into the awestruck Cyrus. Cyrus stumbled back and fell onto his behind. His eyes couldn't comprehend what he had just witnessed. His mind couldn't comprehend.

[Beginning information transfer...] A robotic voice filled his head.

'Sai-!' Cyrus was about to question but suddenly a flow of information flooded his head. He closed his eyes and his eyebrows pulled together.

This was an alternate world where werewolves existed. They have lived alongside humans in peace for centuries now - but most werewolves live in packs away from human society. There are three packs in total. The most isolated pack lives across the world in Iceland. But here, in the wooded area of Canada, lives the remaining two packs. The Greywolfs and the Bloodmoons. The two have been at war for centuries, both fighting to retain dominance and control over this land. They fight for power, and on every blood red moon they fight. The blood red moon enhances their powers, and when they are at their strongest. There is one every twenty years. So far, the Greywolf pack has won each and every battle, and the Bloodmoons have been forced to live far away, but always come back in time for the blood red moon to fight again for this land.

The reason this land is so sacred is because of the legend of the red wolves. Legend says the red wolves used to roam this land. They haven't been seen for at least a century - but according to legend they were the most powerful and the original werewolves. They supposedly come out on a blood red moon to witness the war between packs, and whoever wins the war under the eyes of a red wolf, deserves the right of this land and the protection of the red wolves.

The next blood red moon is in two months. Cyrus must kill the strongest wolf in order to become the new alpha. Only then can he become the strongest, the most popular, and leave this world. And the alpha, the one who he must kill - also happens to be his... mate.

Lance Greywolf. Cyrus now understands this intoxicating scent, and the way his heart beats so fast in the presence of Lance. Lance is his mate. A mate is a werewolves soulmate. A mate is a soulbinding bond between two wolves. But... that would mean that Cyrus was a werewolf? He had reincarnated into the body of a man who was also a wolf. But memories of this body, they were still a complete mystery. He had memories of this world and his misson, but he didn't know anything about this Cyrus. Memories before he woke up in the forest were lost to him.

"Are you alright?" The man - no Lance, his mate, approached him with genuine concern written across his features.

Cyrus looked up at him, frowning. He was his mate - and yet, he was expected to kill him? How could he possibly bring himself to do that? Kill someone just for popularity? For power?

Cyrus instinctively flinched away when Lance had raised a hand towards Cyrus. Lance stopped, hurt flashing in his eyes, before he pulled away and sat down on the ground across from Cyrus. Lance flashed a sad smile, "You don't remember me, do you?"

Cyrus shook his head, watching him carefully.

Lance kept the smile on his face, but the hurt was evident in his eyes as he kept his gaze locked onto the ground, "I see... I suppose it has been a long time. Twenty years since I last saw you. You disappeared off the face of the earth, and I thought I was never going to see you again."

Lance moves his eyes back up towards Cyrus. He seems to take in Cyrus's face, letting his eyes wander over all of his features. And then his smile disappeared, as if he couldn't bring himself to fake it anymore, "I spent years wishing you would come back to me, and now, here you are, right in front of me. I didn't know it at the time as we were just kids but... you and me... we're mates, you know?" His lips twitched upwards, "I know you don't speak, I remember that much. But at least tell me that I'm not crazy. That this bond between us... that I'm not the only one who can feel it."

So they did know each other. Lance was the key to his past. It would be best if Cyrus denied that they were mates. That would make it easier. He knew in the future, when the time comes, he would have to make a choice. But the sadness in this man's eyes, it made Cyrus's heart lurch. It felt as if someone had wrapped two hands around his heart and squeezed. It was as if something inside of him refused to break this man's heart.

Cyrus sighed, letting his shoulders droop. He then spoke, "My name is Cyrus." He let his eyes meet Lance's. His golden eyes were wide open, shocked at the sound of Cyrus's voice. The first time he had heard it. Cyrus couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away. Especially when Lance smiled, truly and finally happy.

Cyrus's heart became warm for this man. He couldn't tell if it was because of the mate bond, or if he truly felt something for this man. Cyrus was disappointed in himself, hadn't he learned his lesson from the last world? Nothing good would come out of caring for Lance.

This was certainly not going to end well.