21. Hands that Reach

A loud knock slammed against the door. 

Shanane jerked upright with a violent gasp, her entire body convulsing as though she had just been ripped from something terrible. 

Her breath came in short, frantic gasps, her lungs barely able to pull in air. Her skin was soaked in sweat, her nightclothes clinging to her like she had been drenched in cold water. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the blanket, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. 

Her stomach was aching 

A deep, burning pain radiated from her core, twisting through her ribs like a fresh, open wound. She let out a soft, broken whimper.

Her hand shot to her stomach, pressing against the wound.

Except there was nothing there.

No warmth, no blood, no torn flesh.

She froze, her breath hitching violently. Her pulse pounded so loudly in her ears she thought she might go deaf from it. 

Slowly, frantically, she lifted the hem of her shirt, her hands shaking uncontrollably. 

Her stomach was untouched. her skin was smooth. The was no wound, no evidence.

But she had felt it. She had felt those claws inside her, ripping her apart from the inside out. 

She had felt the blood pooling, dripping onto the floor. She had died, hadn't she? 

Her breathing became shallow, erratic, her mind racing in frantic circles. How was she unhurt? The touch had been real. The pain had been real. But now, it's like nothing ever happened.

She could feel that it wasn't a nightmare. It was too real to be just a nightmare.

Her fingers trembled over her unbroken skin, pressing harder as if that would reveal some hidden damage, some proof that she hadn't imagined it.

Her throat felt tight, her vision blurring. 

"What's happening to me?" she whispered to herself

Another knock at the door made her flinched violently, a strangled gasp catching in her throat. She stared toward the sound, her breath stuck in her chest. 

The room felt too small, the air too heavy. 

For a split second, her mind screamed that it was still here. That the thing in the shadows had come back for her. 

She clutched at her chest, forcing herself to breathe. It's just the door. Just the door. 

She wasn't grounded yet, wasn't sure if she had woken up at all. 

She heard another knock, more insistent this time. She swallowed back the terror clawing at her throat and forced her body to move, wiping her damp face with shaking hands. She smoothed down her tangled hair, pulling herself together with force alone. 

Her heart was still slamming against her ribs, but she ignored it. She took slow, shaky steps toward the door, her bare feet cold against the wooden floor. She reached for the handle, her fingers still trembling as she turned it.

The door opened revealing a blonde figure.

Egohan stood on the other side, tall and composed, his sharp green eyes flickering over her the second the door opened. 

And he noticed. He saw it immediately, the way she shook, the way her breath still came too fast, the way her wide, panicked eyes looked up at him like she was seeing something else. 

His expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted:

alert, assessing. 

For a long second, neither of them spoke. Then, his voice came steady, even, careful. 

__Egohan: "Did something happen?" 

Shanane's pulse spiked again. She felt exposed, like he could see it: the lingering terror, the raw panic still clawing at her ribs. 

She forced herself to breathe, to pull together whatever remained of her composure. 

__Shanane: "No. Nothing happened." 

She saw it in the way his gaze didn't waver. He didn't believe her. 

__Egohan: "You look like you saw a ghost." 

__Shanane:"I... I just woke up." She swallowed, willing her voice to steady. "The knocks startled me, that's all." 

The huntsman studied with his green eyes her for a long moment. His expression didn't betray his thoughts, but he didn't look away. He didn't nod or accept her lie. He was watching her too closely, reading into the cracks she was failing to hide.

The silence stretched, her skin prickling under the weight of it. Then, finally, he exhaled. He didn't believe her but he let it go.

__Egohan: "I came to investigate the cottage." 

Shanane blinked, the words barely registering at first. Reality was still reforming, still trying to pull her back from whatever hellscape she had just woken up from. 

She forced herself to nod, though her body still felt disconnected, like she wasn't entirely here. 

__Shanane: "Of course. Yes. Come in." 

She stepped aside, her movements stiff, her mind still struggling to realign itself. 

Egohan entered, his presence calm but watchful. 

She could feel his gaze on her, even as he moved deeper into the house, scanning the space like he was already piecing something together. 

She swallowed, shutting the door behind him, the soft sound almost deafening in the suffocating silence that followed. 

The blonde man had already stepped further inside, his movements calm, measured. He was scanning the room with the sharp, focused gaze of a man accustomed to noticing things others didn't.

The young woman barely registered it. Her back pressed against the door, her fingers still clutching the handle as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. Her breath was still uneven, her heartbeat a wild drum against her ribs, the lingering phantom pain of being ripped apart still pulsing deep in her gut. 

Her body was here. But her mind? Her mind was still there, in the nightmare. in the cavern, with "it". 

She could still feel its touch its claws sinking into her, the unbearable agony as her flesh tore apart. She could still hear its voice, wet and guttural, slithering through the darkness: "It begins". 

Shanane's stomach twisted violently, her hands curling into fists to stop them from shaking. 

"It wasn't real. It wasn't real." She told herself

But if it wasn't real, then why did it still feel like it had happened?Why did she still feel violated, as if something had truly laid its hands on her? Why did she still feel like something was watching her? 

The floor creaked, pulling her back. Egohan had turned toward her, his green eyes flickering in her direction, still watching and reading her.

Shanane forced herself to move, stepping away from the door with as much control as she could muster. 

"Pull yourself together." she repeats like a mantra in her mind.

She smoothed a trembling hand down the fabric of her nightshirt, pretending to adjust it. Anything to give herself an extra second to get her breathing under control.

__Egohan: "Are you sure you're alright?" 

His voice was level, but she heard it, the quiet thread of doubt. 

She hesitated. His eyes narrowed slightly. She swallowed, her throat dry and raw, before forcing the words out. 

__Shanane:"Yes." 

She could tell he knew that she wasn't lying. But Egohan wasn't the type to push. At least, not yet. 

Instead, he gave a slight nod, though his expression remained unreadable. 

__Egohan: "Then let's begin." 

She exhaled slowly, forcing herself into the present. She had to focus on the investigation, on something real. Anything to stop herself from feeling like the nightmare was still clawing at the edges of reality.

But as she stepped forward, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Something unseen lingered in the room. And she couldn't shake the feeling that it was still here.

She forced her feet to move, following Egohan deeper into the dimly lit space, though every step felt unsteady, like walking on uncertain ground.

She knew this house better than anywhere else in the world. Every creaking floorboard, every drafty window, every scent of dried herbs that still clung to the wooden walls. This was home.

But now, it felt different, wrong even. She swallowed hard, shaking off the thought as Egohan moved toward the small living area, scanning the room with his sharp, calculating eyes.

He didn't seem affected. His expression remained neutral, his posture relaxed, but not careless.

He was taking everything in, noticing, measuring, hunting.

She envied his ability to focus.

Because she was still struggling to convince herself that she had truly woken up. She needed to keep moving, needed to distract herself before she fell apart again.

__Shanane: "Where do you want to start?"

Her voice came out steadier than she expected, but there was still a raw edge to it. The green-eyed man glanced at her, his expression unreadable.

__Egohan: "Where did she keep her personal things?"

The braided hair woman exhaled slowly, pushing past the lingering unease as she nodded toward a small wooden chest near the fireplace.

Shanane: "There. That's where she kept most of her belongings: letters, trinkets, anything important."

Egohan moved toward it with his usual fluid, purposeful movements, crouching down as he examined the chest. His fingers brushed against the edges, searching for anything unusual before he carefully lifted the lid.Shanane hovered behind him, watching as he shifted through its contents.

There were bundles of dried herbs, a few old, weathered books and folded cloth that had once been her grandmother's favorite shawl.

But there was nothing out of place, nothing that explained what had happened to her. 

Egohan shifted aside a few more objects, his movements precise and methodical. Shanane watched as he searched through every drawer, every shelf, every possible hiding place. His green eyes were sharp, unwavering, scanning for anything that might give them an answer. 

But again, there was nothing, no hidden notes, no strange markings. There was no sign of struggle. No sign that her grandmother had prepared for something. There was no clue as if she had simply vanished one day dragged into that cavern by unseen hands. 

Shanane swallowed, forcing down the frustration building in her chest.

Her grandmother had never been the kind of person to leave behind secrets. She rarely wrote letters, rarely kept things she didn't need. If there had been something wrong, if she had been in danger, would she have told anyone? Would she have told her?

The thought made he stomach twist. She had been away, far from the village. Far from her grandmother. And when she returned, it was too late. Even though her grandmother had always told her to not come back to the village because of their closed minded and superstitions, because the village had nothing to offer, she shouldn't have listen to her. She should have come often.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides, a fresh wave of guilt pressing down on her ribs. 

Egohan closed another drawer, exhaling slowly. 

__Egohan: "Nothing." 

The single word hung in the air, thick with something unreadable. 

Shanane crossed her arms tightly, trying to suppress the unease growing in her chest

__Shanane: "It doesn't make sense." 

He glanced at her, waiting. She took a slow, unsteady breath. 

__Shanane: "If she had been afraid… she would have done something. Left something behind. A warning, a sign, anything." 

The blonde man's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he nodded, turning back toward the center of the room. 

__Egohan: "Unless she never got the chance." 

Shanane felt a sharp chill crawl up her spine. The idea made her stomach turn. That whatever had happened to her grandmother had come suddenly, without warning, without time to fight, or worse without time to run.

She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as the room seemed to grow colder. 

Egohan, ever composed, let out another slow breath, scanning the space one last time before straightening. 

__Egohan: "There's nothing left to find here." 

The words settled like a stone in her gut. She clenched her jaw, trying to force away the bitter frustration clawing at her ribs. No answers. No explanations. Just silence. But she wasn't convinced. Something was missing, she could feel it. She must find the truth so that her grandmother can rest.