16. Burden of her Ashes

The morning sun cast a pale, cold light over the village. A thin mist clung to the cobblestone streets, weaving through the trees and creeping toward the small hill where the funeral was being held. Shanane stood alone at the edge of the graveyard, her heart heavy and her breath visible in the crisp air. 

The grave was dug at the far end of the cemetery, away from the other markers, as if even in death her grandmother was being pushed to the outskirts. A simple wooden casket rested beside the freshly turned earth, unadorned save for a sprig of dried lavender tied to the lid with twine. 

Harlin, the head of the village, was already there, standing solemnly with two men from the village who had helped prepare the burial. Their faces were drawn, their movements quiet and deliberate. No one else had come. 

Shanane stepped forward, clutching her shawl tightly around her shoulders. Her boots crunched on the frost-covered grass, the sound loud in the oppressive silence. Harlin turned at her approach, his expression a mixture of sympathy and regret. 

__Harlin: "Shanane." he said softly. 

She nodded in acknowledgment, her throat too tight to speak. She glanced around the empty graveyard, her chest tightening further at the absence of the villagers. 

__Shanane: "No one came." she said quietly, more to herself than to Harlin. 

The head of the village sighed, his gaze falling to the ground. 

__Harlin: "I'm sorry. I tried to convince them, but… you know how they are. Fear and ignorance can be stronger than decency." 

Shanane swallowed hard, fighting back the sting of tears. She had expected this, but it didn't make the reality any easier to bear. 

__Shanane: "She deserved better." the black young woman murmured. 

The head of the village placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 

__Harlin: "She did. And you're here. That's what matters." 

She nodded, though her heart felt hollow. She turned her attention to the casket, stepping closer. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch the lavender sprig, her fingers brushing against the rough wood. 

__Shanane: "Gran, I'm so sorry. I should have come back sooner. I should have been here for you." she whispered, her voice breaking

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she made no effort to wipe them away. 

__Shanane: "I don't know what happened to you, but I promise I'll find out. I'll make them see the truth, Gran. I'll make them understand who you really were." 

The head of the village stepped forward, clearing his throat gently. 

__Harlin: "Shanane, would you like to say a few words before we lower her?" 

She nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Her voice wavered as she spoke, but she pressed on. 

__Shanane: "My grandmother was the kindest, strongest person I've ever known. She spent her life helping others, even when they didn't deserve it. Even when they turned their backs on her. She taught me how to see the good in people, how to be brave, and how to stand tall no matter what. I wouldn't be who I am without her." 

Her voice broke, and she paused, her hands trembling. 

__Shanane: "I don't know why she had to leave like this. I don't understand why people were so cruel to her, even after everything she did for them. But I know one thing, she deserved better. And I won't let her memory be tarnished by lies and fear." 

She stepped back, her tears flowing freely now. Harlin gave her a solemn nod and motioned to the two men, who moved forward to lower the casket into the ground. 

As the ropes creaked and the casket disappeared into the earth, the braided hair woman knees threatened to give out. Harlin caught her arm gently, steadying her. 

__Harlin: "You're stronger than you know." the head of the village said softly. 

The men began to shovel earth into the grave, the sound of dirt hitting wood echoing in the still air. Shanane watched, her heart breaking anew with every shovelful. 

When it was done, one of the men placed a rough stone at the head of the grave. It bore no name, only a single carved symbol, one of her grandmother's favorite runes for protection. 

The men stepped back, murmuring quiet words of respect before turning to leave. Soon, it was just the young woman and the head of the village standing by the fresh grave. 

__Harlin: "Take your time. I'll be nearby if you need me." he said, his voice gentle.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The old man gave her a small, respectful nod before walking back toward the village. 

She knelt by the grave, her fingers tracing the carved rune on the stone. 

__Shanane: "I'll make them remember you the right way. I swear it." she whispered

The wind stirred around her, carrying the faint scent of lavender. For a moment, it felt as though her grandmother was there, her presence warm and steady, offering the strength Shanane needed to carry on. 

As the wind died down, the braided hair woman stood, brushing the dirt from her hands. She looked out over the empty graveyard, the loneliness pressing down on her like a weight. But somewhere beneath her grief, a spark of determination began to grow. 

__Shanane: "This isn't over." she said softly, her voice steady now. 

Turning away from the grave, she began the walk back to the cottage, the promise of uncovering the truth burning in her heart. 

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∆☆⁠ ATHERAMOND ☆⁠∆

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The forest path leading to the cavern was narrow and overgrown, as though it hadn't been used in years. Twisted roots snaked across the ground, hidden beneath a layer of moss and decayed leaves. Eoghan stepped carefully, his sharp eyes scanning the terrain for any sign of disturbance.

The further he walked, the more the forest seemed to change. The air grew heavier, colder, carrying a faint, metallic scent he couldn't quite place. It wasn't blood, not fresh, at least. But it reminded him of iron and earth. The trees here were darker, their bark rough and gnarled, as if twisted by some unseen force.

The blonde man slowed his pace, his instincts warning him to stay alert. This part of the forest felt different, unnatural. It wasn't just the change in the environment, it was the way the silence seemed to deepen, pressing in around him like a living thing.

As he pressed forward, his thoughts drifted to the cavern itself. He had stumbled upon it just few days ago. The sight of the old woman's body still haunted him, the way her lifeless form had been left in the center of that horrific scene, surrounded by symbols and sacrifices.

His hand brushed against the hilt of his dagger as he walked. The head of the village's words echoed in his mind.

After what felt like hours, he reached the narrow opening to the cavern. It was well-hidden, tucked between two massive boulders and shrouded by overhanging vines. The sight of it sent a familiar wave of unease coursing through him, but he pushed it aside.

He paused at the entrance, his green eyes narrowing as he studied the area. The ground here was uneven, a mix of dirt and jagged stones. He crouched, inspecting the soil for any recent tracks.

There were none.

He reached up, brushing the vines aside to reveal the cavern's dark maw. It seemed to yawn at him, as if inviting him to step inside. The air that seeped out was cold and damp, carrying that same metallic tang he had noticed earlier.

The green-eyed man lit his lantern, its soft flame casting flickering shadows across the cavern walls. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. The cavern had been unsettling the first time he entered it, and he knew it would be no different now.

"Let's see what you're hiding." he murmured under his breath, stepping forward into the darkness.

The hunt for answers had led him here again, and though the forest had offered nothing, Eoghan couldn't shake the feeling that the cavern still had secrets to reveal.

The lantern's light flickered weakly as he stepped into the cavern, the cold air wrapping around him like a shroud. The walls, damp and slick with condensation, seemed to close in on him, narrowing as he ventured further inside. The metallic tang in the air grew stronger, mingling with the earthy scent of stone and decay. 

His boots echoed faintly against the uneven floor, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the oppressive silence. The cavern felt alive, as though it were breathing alongside him, its ancient walls holding secrets no one should ever uncover. 

The deeper Eoghan went, the darker and more foreboding the cavern became. Strange markings adorned the walls, symbols and runes carved into the rock with deliberate precision. He ran his fingers over one of the markings, the grooves cold and deep beneath his touch. They felt old, older than the village, perhaps older than anything he'd ever encountered. 

The memory of the old woman's body flashed in his mind again: her broken form lying in the center of this unholy place, surrounded by symbols similar to these. He had never believed in curses or spirits, but standing here, he couldn't deny the sense of dread that seemed to seep from the very walls. 

His green eyes scanned the cavern, his lantern casting flickering light across the floor. It was empty now, the evidence of the ritual long since removed. But the faint, dark stains remained, etched into the stone like a memory that refused to fade. 

He crouched near the center of the chamber, examining the ground with the care of a seasoned tracker. The symbols drawn in ash and blood had been smudged, either by time or by someone trying to erase them. He traced one faint mark with a gloved finger, trying to decipher its meaning, but it was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. 

He moved to the edges of the chamber, inspecting every crevice and shadow. The air grew colder the closer he got to the walls, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something or someone had been watching him from the moment he stepped inside. 

But there was nothing. No tracks, no remnants, no sign that anyone had been here since his last visit. Whoever had orchestrated the ritual had been meticulous, leaving nothing behind. 

He stood in the center of the cavern, his lantern raised high. The space felt heavy with an unspoken history, as though it bore witness to countless acts of cruelty and despair. He wondered how many others had been lured here, how many lives had ended in this cursed place. 

The head of the village's voice echoed in his mind: "We need to find out what happened to her, and who's behind it."

Eoghan clenched his jaw, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. He had hoped the cavern would offer answers, but it seemed intent on keeping its secrets. 

Just as he turned to leave, the cold silence of the cavern was broken by a sound: a faint whisper, so close it felt as though someone was speaking directly into his ear. 

__???: "Leave this place. It watches." 

The voice was soft yet distinct, and it sent an icy chill down his spine. The blonde man spun around, his dagger drawn and lantern raised, the sudden motion scattering shadows across the cavern walls. 

There was nothing. 

His breathing quickened, but he forced himself to stay calm, scanning every corner of the space with his green eyes. The emptiness seemed to mock him, its silence pressing down like a weight. 

__Eoghan: "Who's there?" he demanded, his voice firm and steady despite the unease twisting in his gut. 

No answer came. 

He frowned, lowering his weapon slightly but keeping his senses alert. His logical mind began to work through the possibilities: "a trick of the wind, perhaps, or the result of my own imagination?"

It wasn't uncommon for the mind to play tricks when one was alone in an unsettling place like this. 

Yet the words had been so clear, so deliberate. The warmth of breath near his ear still lingered in his memory, making it harder to dismiss as mere illusion. 

He took a slow, deep breath, forcing himself to think logically. "I've been in this cavern before, and nothing supernatural happened then. Why would it now?"

He tried to analyze the situation. He was alone, surrounded by eerie symbols and the remnants of a grisly scene. His imagination was likely heightened, fueled by the oppressive atmosphere and his own frustration at finding no clues. 

"Get a grip." he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "You're letting the village's superstitions get to you." 

But even as he dismissed the experience as a product of his own mind, he couldn't fully shake the unease that prickled at the back of his neck. The voice had felt too real, too intimate. 

His green eyes scanned the cavern one last time, lingering on the symbols etched into the walls and floor. Whatever this place was, it seemed designed to instill fear, and it was succeeding, even in him. 

As he extinguished his lantern and stepped back into the cold air of the forest, he resolved to push the strange encounter from his mind. He was a man of science and reason, and he couldn't afford to let irrational fears cloud his judgment. 

Still, as he made his way back to the village, he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder more than once, the phantom whisper echoing in his thoughts: "Leave this place. It watches."