The sun had barely begun its ascent, casting a pale, grayish light across the village. The air was crisp, the kind that clung to your skin and sank deep into your bones. Eoghan, his blond hair falling loosely around his shoulders, adjusted the strap of his bow and pulled his cloak tighter against the cold. The forest loomed before him, a dark and endless expanse, its trees standing like silent sentinels.
Each step felt deliberate, the crunch of frost-laden leaves beneath his boots unnaturally loud in the quiet morning. The forest seemed alive in its stillness, the soft rustle of leaves carried by the breeze, the occasional caw of a distant crow. Despite its natural sounds, it felt as though something was... missing.
The huntsman man paused for a moment, letting his green eyes scan the surroundings. It was an old habit of his: observe, listen, and feel before moving forward. This forest, he realized, wasn't just quiet; it was expectant.
His instincts, honed from years of hunting, kicked in. He began to search for signs: tracks in the dirt, disturbed undergrowth, broken branches. The old woman's death weighed heavily on him, and he couldn't shake the thought that someone or something might have left a trail in these woods. He needed to find answers and find the responsible.
But the more he looked, the less he found. The path ahead was pristine, untouched save for the occasional animal track. A fox, perhaps, or a hare. He crouched by a cluster of faint paw prints, brushing his gloved fingers over them. They were fresh, but they told him nothing of what he sought.
He moved on, stepping over a fallen log covered in frost and moss. His mind replayed the head of the village's words from the night before: "This woman was no witch... but she was involved in something sinister."
"What were you running from? Or... who were you running toward?" Eoghan muttered to himself, his breath visible in the icy air.
As he pressed deeper into the woods, the trees grew denser, their gnarled branches intertwining above like skeletal fingers. The sunlight struggled to penetrate the thick canopy, casting the forest floor into an eerie half-light.
A strange sensation prickled at the back of Eoghan's neck. He stopped abruptly, turning his head to look over his shoulder. There was nothing there, only the silent trees and the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. Still, the feeling persisted, like unseen eyes watching from the shadows.
Eventually, he reached a small clearing. The ground here was soft, covered in a mix of moss and frost. A narrow stream wound through the space, its surface shimmering faintly in the dim light. He crouched beside the stream, his fingers brushing the icy water as he searched for anything unusual.
He scanned the clearing with a practiced eye. The trees surrounding it stood tall and unbroken. The ground bore no signs of recent activity: no footprints, no dragged bodies, no disturbed vegetation. It was as though the clearing had been untouched for years.
Sitting back on his heels, he frowned. "Nothing. Not a single clue." he muttered.
His frustration was beginning to mount. The head of the village had entrusted him with this task, and so far, he had nothing to show for it. But he knew better than to let his emotions cloud his judgment. If there was something to find, it wouldn't reveal itself easily.
The green-eyed man rose to his feet and gazed around the clearing one last time. The forest, vast and indifferent, offered no answers. He felt the weight of its silence pressing against him again, as if the woods themselves were mocking his efforts.
He adjusted his bow and turned back the way he came, his mind already shifting to his next course of action. The cavern. If the forest refused to yield its secrets, perhaps the cavern would.
With one last glance at the clearing, Eoghan set off toward the hidden path that would take him there. The hunt for the truth was far from over, and he wasn't about to give up now.
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∆ ☆ ATHERAMOND ☆ ∆
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As the sun dipped below the horizon, the fading light bathed the village in hues of orange and purple. Shanane sat by the window, staring out into the overgrown garden.
A knock at the door shattered the quiet, startling her.
She rose from her chair, brushing her hands against her skirt to steady herself before crossing the small room. When she opened the door, she was greeted by the familiar face of Harlin, the head of the village. His weathered features were softened by the dim light of the lantern he carried, and he held his hat respectfully in his hands.
__Shanane: "Good evening, Harlin. Please, come in." she said gently, though her voice carried the weight of exhaustion.
__Harlin: "Thank you, Shanane." he replied, stepping inside. His presence seemed too large for the small room, but he moved carefully, his respect evident in the way he carried himself.
The young woman gestured toward a chair near the hearth.
__Shanane: "Can I offer you something? Tea, perhaps?"
Harlin shook his head, giving her a small, grateful smile.
__Harlin: "No need, but thank you. I just wanted to come by and offer my condolences… for your grandmother."
At his words, a lump formed in the young woman's throat, but she managed to nod.
__Shanane: "Thank you. She… she meant everything to me."
__Harlin: "I know she did. She meant a lot to many people in this village, whether they admit it or not."
The braided hair woman looked down, her hands clasped tightly together. She could feel the unspoken weight in Harlin's voice, the careful way he chose his words.
__Shanane: "You didn't come just to say hi, right? There's something more, isn't there?" she asked softly, lifting her gaze to meet his.
The head of the village sighed heavily, running a hand over his face.
__Harlin: "I thought it would be better if you heard it from me. It's about how we found her." he said after a pause.
Shanane's breath caught, and she straightened in her chair, bracing herself.
__Shanane: "Go on."
The head of the village leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his voice quiet and somber.
__Harlin: "She wasn't found here at the cottage. It was in the cavern… the one near the old forest, just outside the village."
Shanane blinked, confusion flickering across her face.
__Shanane: "The cavern? What was she doing there?"
__Harlin: "We don't know." The head of the village admitted.
He sight before continuing: "But Shanane… when we found her…""
He trailed off, as if struggling to find the right words. The young black woman's heart raced, her voice trembling as she urged him on.
__Shanane: "Please, Harlin. Tell me."
The head of the village looked at her, his eyes filled with sympathy and unease.
__Harlin: "Her body was… changed... Twisted in ways I can't explain. It wasn't natural, Shanane. And that's not all. Inside the cavern, there were… markings. Symbols carved into the walls, strange patterns on the ground. It looked like some kind of ritual had taken place."
She stood frozen, the weight of the head of the village's words pressing down on her like a heavy stone. Her grandmother twisted, changed, surrounded by signs of a ritual. The image formed in her mind despite her efforts to push it away. She felt the blood drain from her face. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to steady her breathing.
__Shanane: "A ritual?" she whispered. "Are you saying she… she was part of it?"
Harlin said quickly, shaking his head.
__Harlin: "I don't know. I don't want to believe that. But you know how people talk in this village. They've already made up their minds about her. Some are saying she summoned something… or that she was punished for meddling with forces she couldn't control."
Tears stung Shanane's eyes, but she fought them back.
__Shanane: "My grandmother wasn't like that. She helped people. She healed them when no one else could. She wouldn't even hurt an animal, let's not even talk about a human. She wasn't some… some monster."
__Harlin: "I know that, Shanane." the head of the village said gently. "But fear has a way of blinding people. And the truth is, there's something dark about what happened in that cavern. Something none of us understand."
The room fell silent, the weight of Harlin's words hanging between them. Shanane stared at the floor, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of grief and confusion.
__Harlin: "I just thought you deserved to know." he said after a moment. "And I wanted to tell you that if you need anything, anything at all, you can come to me."
__Shanane: "I want to see her." she said, her voice trembled.
Harlin's head snapped up, his expression shifting to one of alarm.
__Harlin: "Shanane… no. You don't want to see her like that."
__Shanane: "She's my grandmother. I need to see her. I need to know." the braided hair woman said firmly, though her voice cracked.
The head of the village stepped closer, his eyes filled with quiet urgency.
__Harlin: "Listen to me, Shanane. I understand how you feel, but you don't want this to be your last memory of her. You shouldn't see her in that state. No one should."
Shanane's hands clenched at her sides, frustration bubbling beneath her grief.
__Shanane: "But she's my family, Harlin. She raised me. I need to know what happened to her, even if it's terrible."
The head of the village sighed deeply, running a hand through his graying hair.
__Harlin: "I get it, I do. But you don't know what you're asking for. Her corps… it's not natural. Whatever happened to her, it left its mark. If you see her like that, you'll never be able to forget it. You'll carry that image with you for the rest of your life."
The young woman looked away, tears welling in her eyes. She wanted to argue, to demand to see her grandmother, but the look in Harlin's eyes, the pain, the warning made her hesitate.
__Shanane: "I… I don't know what to do." she admitted, her voice breaking.
Harlin placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his voice softening.
__Harlin: "You can say goodbye tomorrow. The funeral will take place in the morning. We waited for your arrival so you could be there."
Her breath hitched, and she wiped at her eyes, nodding slowly.
__Shanane: "Thank you. For waiting."
__Harlin: "It's the least we could do. Your grandmother deserved that much, at least. And so do you." The head of the village said, his voice heavy with sympathy
Her gaze fell to the floor as her mind swirled with thoughts of the funeral. She had imagined returning home to her grandmother's warm embrace, to the scent of herbs and the sound of her laughter. Instead, she would be saying goodbye forever.
__Shanane: "I'll be there. I'll say goodbye properly." she said quietly .
Harlin nodded, his hand lingering on her shoulder for a moment before he stepped back toward the door.
__Harlin: "Try to get some rest tonight, Shanane. Tomorrow will be… difficult. But I'll be there. And so will the rest of the village, whether they loved her or feared her."
She managed a faint, tired smile.
__Shanane: "Thank you, Harlin. For everything."
He tipped his hat to her and stepped out into the night.
As the door closed, Shanane leaned her back against it, staring at the shadows that filled the room. The grief in her chest felt like it might swallow her whole, but Harlin's words lingered in her mind.
__Shanane: "What happened to you, Gran?" she whispered into the quiet room.
The cottage offered no answers, only the weight of the mystery left behind.
Tomorrow, she would say goodbye. And she would find a way to understand what had happened, no matter how terrible the truth might be.