The restaurant door creaked softly as they stepped back out into the evening. The sun had dipped below the rooftops, casting a rich, dusky blue across the sky, while the lanterns lining the street had been lit one by one, bathing the cobblestones in a golden glow.
It was quiet, but not lifeless. A few villagers moved about, some heading home, others still tending to small stalls and open windows. The air had cooled, crisp with the scent of autumn leaves and something faintly sweet drifting from a nearby bakery.
Shanane walked beside Eoghan, her hands tucked into her coat pockets. Her stomach was full, her thoughts a little quieter than usual, and her chest wasn't quite as tight as it had been that morning. She had expected nothing from today had expected fear, more isolation, more whispers behind her back. But she'd laughed instead. Sat at a warm table. Been seen.
It didn't fix anything. But it mattered.
They passed a small cart nestled between two buildings, half-hidden beneath a canvas awning. The merchant was an old woman with soft-lined eyes and a scarf wrapped around her silver hair. Her table was cluttered with simple jewelry: tiny rings, hand-carved beads, copper pendants strung with leather, and polished stones that caught the lantern light like embers.
Eoghan slowed, glancing down at the display, and before Shanane could speak, he stepped toward it.
__Eoghan: "Evening, Clara."
The old woman looked up and smiled.
__Clara: "Still alive, then?"
__Eoghan: "Just barely."
He leaned down, picking something from the table and turning it over between his fingers.
Shanane lingered a few steps back, unsure. She wasn't used to people being kind to her here, wasn't used to standing in the middle of the village and not being watched like a ghost. But no one was staring. No one was whispering. Not right now.
The huntsman turned toward her and stepped closer, holding something out in his hand. It was a necklace, just a small, smooth piece of dark green stone wrapped in silver wire, hung on a thin leather cord. It was the kind of thing easily overlooked, but somehow… it was beautiful.
He give it to her. She stared at it, her throat tightening. Not because of the gift itself. It wasn't expensive, or flashy but because of what it meant. It was quiet. Intentional. And given without expectation.
Her fingers curled slowly around it, her voice soft.
__Shanane: "You didn't have to."
__Eoghan: "I wanted to." he looked down at her, something unreadable in his expression.
She hesitated only a second before slipping it over her head. The cool stone settled against her collarbone like it belonged there.
__Shanane: "Thank you."
He gave a small nod, hands tucked into his coat, already turning slightly as if to continue the walk. But something in her lingered.
She touched the stone again, as if grounding herself with it. It was a gesture she would remember. And right now, that was more powerful than any charm.
The quiet of the walk returned as they moved away from the stalls, the faint clink of lanterns in the breeze mingling with the sound of their footsteps. Shanane's fingers still brushed occasionally against the moss agate resting against her chest.
As they reached the outskirts of the village, the path forked gently, one trail leading back toward Eoghan's cottage, the other curling into the hills where hers waited, silent and heavy under the trees.
He slowed his pace, glancing toward her.
__Eoghan: "I don't want you going back there tonight."
She stopped walking. The words were simple, but they hit something deep inside her because part of her had already been dreading that quiet house. That cold hallway. That room full of secrets.
__Shanane: "Eoghan, I can't just keep staying with you. You've already done so much. I don't want to be a burden."
He turned fully toward her, his brows drawing slightly together. There was no frustration in his voice, only quiet certainty.
__Eoghan: "You're not a burden. You're someone who's going through something no one should face alone."
She looked down at her hands. The stone necklace. The fading light. All of it felt too kind. Too safe. And that made it harder to accept.
__Shanane: "But I barely even know what I'm dealing with. I don't want to drag you into something I don't even understand myself"
Eoghan: "You're not dragging me. I'm already in it."
He said it with the same calm tone he used when talking about tracking wolves or repairing a broken trap, like it was just a fact of life. Like deciding to stand beside her came as naturally as breathing.
She hesitated, the weight of everything she hadn't told him pressing against the back of her throat. But his gaze didn't falter. And something in her, bruised and fragile, finally gave in.
__Shanane: "Alright. Just… a few days. Until things feel clearer."
__Eoghan: "As long as you need."
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∆ ☆ ATHERAMOND ☆ ∆
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They turned down the path leading toward her grandmother's cottage. The light was almost gone now, and the trees hung dark and silent around them. Shanane felt her stomach tighten with every step, but the blonde man walked beside her without a word, his presence a steady calm against the quiet dread creeping in.
__Shanane: "I just need to grab some clothes. I won't stay long."
__Eoghan: "I'll wait outside." he gave her a look that held no argument, no pressure, just quiet respect.
She nodded and quickened her pace toward the house, already trying not to think about what might be waiting behind the door.
The cottage was colder than she remembered. It wasn't just the chill of night creeping in through the walls. It was the stillness, the kind that settles after something has been disturbed and never quite settles back.
She moved quickly, not wanting to linger. She pulled a small duffel from the closet in her old bedroom and began gathering what she needed: warm clothes, a scarf, a few worn notebooks and her laptop she didn't want to leave behind. Her hands moved with purpose, but her chest remained tight, her ears tuned to every creak of the wood, every whisper of wind outside the windows.
She had almost finished. She zipped the bag shut when she heard someone calling her.
The voice was soft, gentle, spoken with the kind of tone only someone who knew you could use.
She froze. Her blood turned cold. The bag slipped from her fingers, landing on the floor with a muffled thud.
The voice called her again. It was closer this time. As if the voice had stepped into the room with her.
She turned slowly, heart pounding so hard she thought her ribs might crack beneath the force of it.
And there, standing just beside the fireplace, was her grandmother.
At first glance, it was exactly how she remembered her: the long braid, the kind eyes, the soft shawl wrapped around her shoulders. But the longer Shanane stared, the more wrong it became.
Her grandmother's face was too still. Her eyes held no warmth, only a kind of depthless calm. Like the memory of a smile etched into stone.
__Shanane: "No….You're dead." her voice came out broken, barely a breath.
The figure didn't move. Didn't blink.
__The Thing: "You left the door open." the woman said, voice low, almost a whisper.
Shanane took a step back, breath shallow, every nerve in her body screaming to run but her feet wouldn't move.
__Shanane: "You're not her. You're not real."
The smile that followed was slow. Not cruel. Not kind. Just… knowing.
__The Thing: "But I loved you" the thing said, tilting its head. "Didn't I?"
And behind her ribs, something broke open.
Shanane stood frozen, her breath lodged in her throat. The thing that wore her grandmother's face stepped forward, not with menace, not with the jerky wrongness of some horror clawing its way out of the dark. No. It moved gently, gracefully. Like her grandmother always had. Like memory.
But it wasn't her.
Her real grandmother had been buried. Shanane had watched the earth take her. This, whatever this was, was a lie in familiar skin.
__The Thing: "You've already begun, child. You've opened the door. You've spoken the name."
The thing said softly, its eyes shimmering now, too deep and dark to be human.
Shanane's pulse pounded in her ears. Her legs wanted to run. But her voice rose instead, sharp and breaking.
__Shanane: "I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't want any of this."
The woman only smiled: slow, patient, like someone speaking to a child who hadn't yet understood her purpose.
__The Thing: "But you've always been part of this. You carry the blood. The gift. The hunger."
Shanane flinched at that last word.
__Shanane: "I'm not like her. I didn't make any pact. I don't want this."
__The Thing: "And yet, you're marked."
Her breath caught. Her wrist throbbed under her sleeve.
__The Thing: "You feel it, don't you?" the figure murmured. "In your skin. In your sleep. In your breath when the room is too still. That thread pulling at you, calling you home."
Shanane took a step back, her shoulder bumping into the edge of the doorway.
__Shanane: "Stop."
__The Thing: "Your grandmother was the first of her kind in this village. She carved power from stone and silence. But you..."
The thing leaned forward just slightly, its voice a hush of reverence.
__The Thing: "You could be among the greatest."
The room felt smaller, heavier. The air thick like smoke.
__The Thing: "It's time, Shanane. Time to stop running from what you are. Time to continue her work."
The young woman's chest rose and fell in rapid breaths. Her throat was tight. Her vision blurred. Her bag still lay forgotten on the floor.
__Shanane: "I'm nothing like her." she repeated
The figure's expression didn't falter. It didn't rage. It didn't scream. It only stepped closer, slowly, like it had all the time in the world.
__The Thing: "But you will be."
The light above them flickered. And from outside, faint but growing louder, she heard someone calling her name again.
But this time, it was the huntsman's voice.
The sound of her name, this time real and sharp, broke through the suffocating stillness.
__Eoghan: "Shanane?"
His voice came from just outside the front door, urgent but calm. Then the door creaked open behind her, the hinges whining softly.
Shanane didn't turn. She couldn't. She was staring at the thing in front of her, still standing there, still wrapped in the form of the woman who had raised her, but now its features were beginning to slip, just slightly. The skin beneath the illusion wavered like heat haze, too smooth in some places, too rigid in others. The eyes gleamed with something old and cruel, far too deep for any human soul.
And then Eoghan stepped into the room. He stopped just behind her, sensing the change in the air instantly. His eyes landed on Shanane, still as stone, her back to him, her arms tense at her sides.
__Eoghan: "Shanane? What's wrong?"
She didn't answer right away. She couldn't find her voice.
He moved to stand beside her, following her frozen stare toward the fireplace. His gaze passed right through it. To him, the space in front of the hearth was empty.Just a shadowed corner of an old cottage.
The thing smiled. It was subtle. A slow curl of its lips, just enough for the young woman to feel the chill crawl down her spine.
That smile wasn't for Eoghan. It was for her. A silent message passed between her and the thing.
__The Thing: "You see me. And only you."
Shanane's throat tightened, her pulse hammering in her ears.
__Eoghan: "Shanane, what are you looking at?" he stepped closer now, glancing between her and the fireplace. His hand hovered near her back, not touching, but close.
She forced herself to speak, her voice dry and cracking.
__Shanane: "Do you… do you see anything by the fire?"
He blinked, confused. Looked again.
__Eoghan: "No. Just the hearth. Why?"
She didn't answer. Her eyes never left the figure. The smile on the thing's face widened, no longer gentle. It was vicious and triumphant. It stepped forward slowly, as if to remind her: "he can't protect you from this. He can't even see it."
Her breath stuttered.
__Shanane: "We need to go."
__Eoghan: "What's happening?"
__Shanane: "Please." Her voice cracked. "We have to leave. Now."
And still, the thing didn't move. It only watched her go. Watched her choose fear. Watched her understand that no one else could carry this.
No one else could see it. Only her. And it would wait. It always would.