The soft light of dawn started to creep through the windows of Eoghan's cottage, gently waking him from his sleep. He stirred, slowly opening his eyes and stretching his limbs as consciousness returned to him.
He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and taking in his surroundings. The fire in the hearth was nothing but embers now, casting a warm but dim light in the cottage. The room was silent, broken only by the faint sounds of birds singing outside.
He got up from his chair, stretching out his stiff muscles and relishing in the faint crackle crackle of his joints. He felt a little more rested, his mind a little sharper than it had been the night before.
Making his way to a small wash basin in the corner, he splashed some cold water on his face, rinsing away the last remnants of sleep. The cool water was refreshing, and it helped him focus his thoughts.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror, his blonde hair tousled about and his green eyes clear and alert. He knew he had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste. He finished washing up quickly, then started gathering his belongings.
He slung his hunting pack over his shoulder, making sure he had everything he might need. He grabbed a plain black jacket, slipping it on to keep out the crisp morning chill. He took one more glance around the cottage, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and then headed for the door.
As he stepped outside, the crisp morning air greeted him, still cool and crisp from the night before. The sun was just starting to peeking over the horizon, bathing the village in a soft golden light. Eoghan squinted against the brightness, his eyes adjusting to the new day.
He made his way through the streets, greeting some of the villagers with a nod or a soft "good morning" as he passed. The village was slowly coming to life but notice the unease still hung in the air. The usual hustle and bustle of the village was missing, replaced by a sense of fear and tension. The recent events had left an indelible mark on the villagers, and it was evident in their expressions and body language.
Still, the huntsman tried to focus on the task at hand. He needed information and leads, and the village was his best source. He decided to make his way towards the center of town, where he knew he would find more people moving around and talking.
His boots crunched softly against the dirt path, the sound barely audible in the quiet morning. Stopping near the well where a few villagers gathered to draw water, he approached a middle-aged man with a worn face and tired eyes. His tone was gentle, almost casual, as he spoke. "A crisp morning, isn't it? Perfect for some fresh water."
The older man nodded to Eoghan's words, his shoulders slightly easing at the unassuming conversation.
Without missing a beat, Egohan added, "Strange times we're living in, though. Losing someone like that... unsettling. What do you make of it?"
The man hesitated, glancing around before speaking in a hushed tone. "I don't know, sir. She was always... odd. Kept to herself mostly, but people talked. Said she... meddled in things." His voice trailed off, and he shifted uncomfortably.
The green-eyed huntsman nodded thoughtfully. "I see. And did anyone visit her often? Perhaps someone close to her or someone who might have held a grudge?"
The man frowned. "Not that I know of. Though, there was talk of her having visitors late at night...strangers. Never saw them myself, but my wife swears by it."
The blond man thanked him with a polite nod before moving on, his mind already piecing together the threads of information.
He approached a woman who sell talisman. He stood beside her, his voice calm and soothing. "These talisman, it's for protection right?"
She glanced up at Eoghan, startled, but his friendly expression put her at ease. "Yes, sir. Keeps bad spirits away," she added, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Bad spirits," he echoed, his tone curious. "Did the old woman believe in such things? Maybe she used these too?"
The woman hesitated, then nodded. "She knew things... about the world, about people. Some called it wisdom, others..." She looked away, nervous. "They called her a witch."
His green eyes narrowed slightly, not with judgment but with focus. "Did anyone threaten her because of that? Call her names, accuse her openly?"
The woman's hands tightened around the talisman. "No one would dare. But people talked behind her back. Said she cursed livestock, even made children sick. I... I didn't believe it, but..." She stopped abruptly, eyes darting around, fear palpable.
Eoghan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Thank you. You've been very helpful." Rising to his feet, he left her to her work, his mind whirring with the pieces of a story he was only beginning to understand.
As he walked through the village, the blond man's sharp eyes noticed patterns who avoided his gaze, who whispered when he passed, and who seemed burdened with guilt. He stored it all away, knowing each detail would matter. The old woman's death wasn't just a tragedy; it was the key to something much darker lurking beneath the surface of this uneasy village.
He continued his quiet investigation, weaving through the village with purpose. His sharp mind focused on picking out those whose reactions might offer clues. Near the edge of the village, he spotted an older man repairing a wooden fence. The man looked up briefly, wiping his hands on his apron, and gave a curt nod.
"Morning," Eoghan said casually, leaning lightly against the fence. "Looks like you've been keeping busy. Strong hands like yours must have built half this village."
The older man chuckled, his tension easing. "Just trying to keep things in order. Lot of work, even for a quiet village like ours."
The huntsman tilted his head slightly. "Quiet until recently, I'd imagine. Must be unsettling for you all...what happened to her."
The older man's smile faded, his hands tightening around the plank he was holding. "Aye... unsettling's one word for it. None of us can make sense of it."
"Did she have any enemies? Anyone who might have wanted her harm?" the green-eyed man asked, his tone smooth and nonchalant, as though they were simply discussing the weather.
The older man hesitated, his jaw tightening. "She wasn't loved, I'll say that. Kept to herself, spoke strange words sometimes. The women said she practiced... things. I don't know about that, but folk can get ideas, you know?"
Egohan nodded thoughtfully. "And these ideas...did anyone act on them? Maybe someone thought they were doing the village a favor?"
The older man glanced around nervously before shaking his head. "Not that I know of. But talk spreads fast. People get scared. Scared people do foolish things."
"Thank you," the blond investigator said, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before moving on.
____________ATHERAMOND_____________
A little farther into the village, Egohan approached a group of young boys kicking a ragged ball near a cart. Their laughter died quickly as they noticed him, standing tall and imposing despite his calm demeanor.
"That's quite the game you've got there," he said with a faint smile, crouching slightly to their level. "Bet the old woman didn't like all the noise you made, did she?"
One of the boys, a scrawny lad with dirt-smudged cheeks, shuffled his feet. "She'd yell at us if we got too close to her place. Said we'd ruin her... spells."
"Spells?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of spells?"
Another boy piped up, his voice tinged with fear and excitement. "She'd draw stuff in the dirt and whisper to herself. My sister said she saw her talking to shadows once!"
The blond man leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "And did you ever see her with anyone? Maybe people from outside the village?"
The boys exchanged glances before the first one nodded. "A man. Tall, with a big coat. He came a few times. Looked scary. Never stayed long."
"That's very helpful," he said, standing and ruffling the boy's hair. "You're braver than you know."
By midday, he'd spoken to a baker, a farmhand, and even the blacksmith. Each conversation revealed fragments of a larger mystery: rumors of strangers visiting at odd hours, whispers of dark rituals, and hints of resentment and fear within the community.
As the blond man with the piercing green eyes made his way back toward the village center, he pieced together the web of fear and suspicion surrounding the old woman's life and her death.
_____________ATHERAMOND____________
He found himself lingering near the small temple at the heart of the settlement. The villagers avoided this place more than usual, their unease almost palpable. Perhaps it was guilt, or perhaps it was fear of the divine wrath they suspected might come for harboring a witch.
He stood in the shadow of the temple's modest bell tower, scanning the area. His sharp gaze landed on a woman kneeling in the dirt, tending to a small garden of herbs and flowers. Her hands worked deftly, but her shoulders were hunched, her movements hurried as if she wanted to finish and leave the area as quickly as possible.
He approached slowly, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path. "You've got quite the green thumb," he said, his voice calm and steady.
The woman flinched but didn't look up. "Just doing what needs to be done," she muttered, her voice tight.
He crouched beside her, careful not to startle her further. "I've been asking around about the old woman. I heard she used herbs like these. You must've known her well."
Her hands stilled, hovering over the soil. "I didn't... not well. Just enough to trade sometimes. She'd give me roots and powders for my headaches, and I'd give her fresh herbs. That's all."
His green eyes looked at her, "How would you describe her?"
The woman hesitated, her breathing shallow. "She knew things," she whispered finally. "Things no one should know. About sickness, about... death. She'd say it wasn't her doing, but the spirits'. Some believed her. Others..." She glanced around nervously. "Others thought she called on those spirits herself."
He leaned in slightly. "And what about you? Did you believe her?"
Her lips trembled. "I don't know. But I saw what happened to people who crossed her. Animals fell ill. Crops withered. Children wouldn't sleep, their cries piercing the night. Maybe it was coincidence, but... what if it wasn't?"
The blond man's expression didn't waver. "Did anyone confront her directly? Accuse her?"
She shook her head vehemently. "Not openly. No one dared. But people whispered. And some of the men... they started talking about how we'd be better off without her."
He straightened. "Did anyone act on those words?"
The woman swallowed hard, her gaze darting toward the village outskirts. "I don't know. But there were nights when the air felt heavy, like something bad was happening. I'd hear voices, shouting in the distance, and then nothing. Just... silence."
The huntsman thanked her with a quiet nod before rising to his full height.
____________ATHERAMOND____________
As he made his way to the village's edge, where the forest loomed dark and foreboding, he noticed a small group of men gathered near a broken cart. Their voices were low, their laughter forced. The tension among them was thick, their eyes flicking toward him as he approached.
"Good evening," the blond man said, his tone light but probing. "Looks like you've had some trouble with your cart."
One of the men, a burly figure with a patchy beard, gave a stiff nod. "Wheel broke on the way back from the fields."
The huntsman crouched to inspect the wheel, though his real interest lay in their body language. "Rough work, farming. Bet you've got plenty of stories about strange things happening out there."
The men exchanged uneasy glances. "Strange things happen everywhere," one muttered.
"True enough," the green-eyed man replied smoothly. "Like what happened to the old woman. Must've been hard for the village, losing someone like that."
The burly man's jaw tightened. "Hard, sure. But some would say it's for the best. Keeps the rest of us safe."
"Safe from what?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual.
The man's eyes darkened. "You know what. She was cursed. Everyone knew it. Best not to speak of such things now."
"Why not?" the investigator pressed, his voice quiet but firm.
The man's gaze darted around nervously. "Because she's gone now. And if you keep asking questions, maybe you'll end up like her. Stay away from the cursed corpse."
The threat hung in the air, unspoken but clear. The blond man stood slowly, meeting the man's gaze without flinching. "Maybe I will," he said, his green eyes sharp and unyielding. "But I don't have any fear because I don't have anything to hide."
Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving the group in tense silence.
As he headed back toward the village, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Fear, hatred, and superstition had poisoned this place, and hatred had likely turned into action. Was he getting closer to the truth? But the deeper he delved, the darker the shadows grew.
____________ATHERAMOND_____________
He stopped, watching as a small group of women whispered amongst themselves. They paused when they noticed him, their eyes darting away as though afraid to meet his gaze. He approached them carefully, his voice calm and reassuring.
"Hello," he said, his tone kind but firm. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
One of the women, older than the others and with sharp eyes that seemed to miss nothing, stepped forward. "What do you want, sir?" she asked, her voice steady but guarded.
"I've been tasked to look into what happened to the old woman," he replied, his green eyes locking onto hers. "I understand she was... different. Some of you thought she had certain powers."
The other women exchanged nervous glances, their whispers growing louder. The older woman sighed and crossed her arms. "Different doesn't even begin to describe her," she said. "She was a witch. Everyone knows it."
The blond man tilted his head slightly. "A witch? Or just a woman who didn't fit your expectations?"
The woman scowled. "She knew things no one should know. And bad things happened when she was around: illness, dead livestock, bad harvests. You think that's coincidence?"
He held her gaze. "And did you see her causing these things? Or was it easier to blame her when the world didn't go your way?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. The older woman's face flushed with anger, but before she could respond, one of the younger women spoke up, her voice trembling.
"I heard... I heard she was cursed herself," the girl said, wringing her hands. "That something dark followed her. Maybe she wasn't the one doing it. Maybe it was something using her."
The older woman rounded on her, hissing, "Don't be foolish! She was in league with whatever darkness came to her. She brought it here!"
The younger woman stepped closer, her voice low. "There's a place," she whispered, glancing around as if afraid someone might overhear. "In the woods, past the eastern ridge. They say she went there at night."
His green eyes narrowed slightly. "Why didn't anyone mention this before?"
"Because no one goes there," the older woman snapped. "It's cursed ground. Evil things happen there."
"Thank you for your help. Have a good evening" he told them
Egohan decided that it was enough for today and he would continue his research the next day.