Scarred

Chapter 35: Eogan and Fionuir

"You attacked my Ruach without reason or provocation," Michael's silver voice rang out through the room, passing judgment. "Your life belongs to me."

"You think you'll win by killing me? You know nothing!" Brianna cackled. "Wait, no!" she shouted before collapsing, much to Michael's confusion.

Weston glanced back and forth between Michael and the sprawled form of Brianna before wryly commenting, "Given the weight of a gathering hurricane that's still flooding the room, I'm guessing it wasn't you that knocked her out?"

"No," Michael replied, quickly scanning the woman before tucking his power away. He nodded at his people who promptly moved in, trussing her up like a Christmas goose, before carting her off to a cell.

"When she awakens, I rather believe her answers will be... enlightening. In the meantime, perhaps Cooper may shed some light on the situation?" Michael spoke mildly, but his voice was hard.

Weston looked speculatively at the man who was now a sweaty mess. "What say you, Cooper? You're supposed to be in charge of this region. I think we'd all like to know what's really going on here."

"I... I... I..." was all the man got out before his eyes rolled back and he fainted dead away on the floor.

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Eogan strode up to the man he'd incapacitated, the very same clansman who'd been in charge of watching over Lucienne and her siblings. He never should have been able to slip his leash and betray not just his clan, but the direct blood line of the clan head.

At least he shouldn't have without alerting me, which speaks to very high level magic. That or blood magic, at any rate.

He clucked his tongue in irritation at the whole situation, eyeing his surroundings . This is too easy, he thought to himself, slowing his steps. He paused quite a few feet away, and sent the barest whisper of power to test for traps.

It was a rather complicated working, but he'd spent centuries practicing and refining till he could cast it instantly. The trick to it, and also the piece that made it difficult to cast quickly, was disassociating himself while still being able to direct the tendril of power.

All his care turned out to be pointless, however, when he detected nothing. Eogan frowned, his instincts still on high alert, and focused on the currents of energy running through the forest. Like a spider in its web, he listened for anything that didn't belong, all too aware of the possibility that he'd simply followed a bit of bait into a trap.

There, he thought to himself, carefully focusing out to the eastern side of Michael's grounds. A shifter that isn't one of Michael's people. Someone must be masking him. I need to warn...

"How unexpected to see you here, Fionúir," Eogan calmly spoke to the dark haired woman that melted from the trees, not allowing himself to show her any modicum of surprise. "How fares your grandmother?"

Fionúir raised a sculpted eyebrow, her face cold and impassive. "Your presence is equally unexpected Eogan. As for my grandmother, I'm surprised you had not heard. She's with the ancestors now."

"May those who have gone before welcome Aiora and grant her peace," Eogan replied, keeping his voice smooth and cordial. "I'm merely clearing up a clan matter," he said nodding his head at the collapsed figure on the ground. Fionúir's use of his first name told him she'd taken her grandmother's place as head of their clan. What he really wanted to know was whether she intended to continue Aiora's vendetta.

Fionúir's eyes betrayed her anger for the barest second before she deadened them again. "You have a forgiving heart, Eogan," she commented, and he knew she was deliberately trying to bait him with the fact that Aiora had killed his son and now was beyond his reach.