22. Consolation

Egohan let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping against the wooden table in quiet frustration. 

He had searched for hours Nothing. There was no clues. No hidden letters. No strange objects tucked away in the walls or beneath the floorboards. Just nothing. 

It didn't sit right with him. 

He was thorough. Always had been. When he hunted, when he tracked, when he searched, he always found something.

No one just vanished without leaving a trace. 

But here he was. Standing in this empty house, surrounded by a dead woman's belongings, and he had nothing to show for it.

His jaw tightened, irritation coiling in his chest. This had been a waste of time. Not because he wanted to find proof that the old woman was a witch,he had never believed that. But because something happened to her. Something brutal. Something unnatural. 

And yet, there was no sign that she had ever seen it coming. 

He hated that. He hated mysteries without answers. 

His green eyes flickered toward Shanane. She was standing near the fireplace, arms wrapped around herself, her face half-shadowed in the dim candlelight. 

She hadn't spoken in a while. 

She was staring at nothing, lost in her own thoughts. He let himself study her for a moment. She looked…small. Not in the way of someone physically weak, but in the way of someone carrying too much.

There was something hollow about her expression. Something that made his frustration twist into something else, something heavier.

She had no one left. No parents. No siblings. No family at all. 

Just this empty house. Just herself. And the worst part? 

She couldn't even grieve properly. She had been robbed of that. Because how could she grieve when she didn't even know what had happened? 

How could she mourn her grandmother when she didn't know how she died? What killed her? Why?

He could see it now. The exhaustion. The grief tangled with confusion and frustration.

She didn't just want to mourn. 

She wanted answers. But he didn't have them. And that, more than anything, bothered him.

His fingers clenched slightly against the edge of the table. 

He didn't pity people. Pity was useless. But looking at Shanane now, standing in the home she had returned to only to find it empty, he felt something close to it. 

She was trying to stay strong. 

But she was alone. And that was a weight no one should have to carry.

His frustration dimmed slightly, though it didn't disappear. 

If there were no answers here, he would have to look elsewhere. Because one thing was certain, this wasn't over. 

The air in the cottage was thick with dust and the weight of unspoken things. 

Shanane stood near the fireplace, arms still wrapped around herself, her body stiff. The room felt emptier than before, even with Egohan's presence. 

It wasn't just the lack of answers. It was the absence of anything at all. No notes. No warnings. No lingering signs of her grandmother preparing for something before her death. 

She hadn't left a message for her. Hadn't tried to reach out. 

Hadn't done anything to suggest that she knew something was coming. 

That truth sat uncomfortably in Shanane's chest. Because if her grandmother hadn't known, if she hadn't sensed the danger, then it had come for her without warning. Without mercy.

Egohan exhaled sharply, the sound breaking the suffocating silence. 

__Egohan: "There's nothing here."

The black young woman flinched. Not visibly. Not noticeably. But he caught it. 

She turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable. 

__Shanane: "I know."

Her voice was flat. Tired. Too tired. The blonde man studied her, his jaw tightening. 

__Egohan: "You're not alright." 

It wasn't a question. She let out a short, brittle laugh. 

__Shanane: "You're observant." 

Egohan didn't react. Didn't smirk. Didn't scoff. Didn't acknowledge the weak attempt at deflection.

He just kept watching her, the silence stretching between them again.

She swallowed. There was something about the way he was looking at her, not with suspicion, not with pity, but something else. Something she couldn't name. Something that made her feel exposed.

She looked away first.

__Shanane: "I'll be fine."

He knew she was lying again. Instead, he ran a hand through his blond hair, his frustration clear now. 

The frustration in his chest tightened. He wasn't done here. 

Not by a long shot. 

He wasn't good at this at offering comfort, at saying things just for the sake of making someone feel better. But something about the way she stood there, looking so utterly lost, made him hesitate before leaving. 

He shifted his stance slightly, exhaling before speaking again, this time with less certainty. 

,__Egohan: "If you need anything… I'm here."

The words felt strange coming out of his mouth, unfamiliar in a way that almost made him regret saying them. 

She let out a sharp, hollow laugh, shaking her head. 

__Shanane: "I don't need fake sympathy."

Her voice wasn't laced with anger, but there was bitterness beneath it, a quiet edge that made it clear she had heard those words too many times before. People offering kindness out of obligation, people pretending to care when they didn't. 

He didn't look away from her. He kept his expression steady, unwilling to let her dismiss him so easily. 

__Eoghan: "I meant it. You shouldn't be alone." his voice was quieter this time, but no less firm.

Shanane's breath hitched slightly, barely noticeable, but he saw it. 

For a brief second, something flickered across her face, something uncertain, something almost vulnerable. And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. She straightened her shoulders, her expression smoothing back into something guarded. 

__Shanane: "I'll be fine." 

Egohan didn't call out the lie, but he heard it clearly. 

His jaw tightened slightly, but he chose not to argue with her. Instead, he took a slow step back toward the door, placing his hand on the handle. Before he opened it, he hesitated for just a moment. 

Without looking back at her, he spoke again, his voice quieter but firm. 

__Eoghan: "I will be back."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't a meaningless promise. It was a fact. 

And before she could argue, before she could push him away like she had pushed everyone else, he stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.