Black Magic

Chapter 65: Ourage

As the carriage gracefully rolled through the dusty streets, Eleanor sat within its confines, her aura, a study in cold detachment. Her piercing gaze swept over the passing scene, her lips set in a thin, unforgiving line. The townsfolk, accustomed to her intimidating presence, whispered behind cupped hands, their voices laden with fear and speculation.

'Have you heard?' one woman murmured. 'They say she's as cold as a winter's night.'

'And rude, too,' another chimed in. 'I once asked her for help, and she simply ignored me.'

But Eleanor's attention was drawn to a group of women standing near the marketplace. Their voices, though hushed, carried clearly to her ears.

'Her mother was a witch,' one woman spat. 'No wonder Eleanor's so heartless, Florence made a love potion for General Eugene, for sure Eleanor did the same to Aiden."

A surge of anger coursed through Eleanor's veins. Her hands tightened into fists, and her eyes flashed with fury. Without a moment's hesitation, she leapt from the carriage and strode towards the gossiping women.

'How dare you speak of my mother that way!' she hissed. 'She was a good woman, and I'll not have her name defiled.'

The women gasped in surprise, their eyes wide with fear. Eleanor's presence was like a bolt of lightning, electrifying the atmosphere.

'You're a witch yourself!' that woman cried. 'Just like your mother.'

Eleanor's anger boiled over. She grabbed the woman by the hair and yanked her towards her. The woman screamed and struggled, but Eleanor's grip was unyielding.

'You will apologize,' she growled. 'You will beg for forgiveness.'

The villagers, witnessing the unfolding scene, rushed forward to intervene. But Eleanor was relentless. She dragged the woman by the hair, her eyes blazing with rage.

As they approached a group of people grilling barbecue, Eleanor's mind raced with thoughts of revenge. She grabbed the woman's head and shoved it towards the searing heat of the grill.

'You will feel the pain my mother suffered!' she screamed.

The woman cried out in terror, her face inches from the burning coals. The villagers panicked, their shouts and pleas falling on deaf ears.

In a fit of unbridled fury, Eleanor physically beat up the woman, her fists raining down upon her with merciless force. The villagers watched in horror as she gave way to a terrifying display of violence.

"You dare to speak ill of me in front of my own people?" Eleanor bellowed, her voice booming across the square. The woman's eyes filled with terror as she looked up at the towering figure before her.

Without warning, Eleanor lunged at the woman, her fists flying like a whirlwind. The woman tried to dodge the blows, but Eleanor's strength was overwhelming.

She pinned the woman against the hard, unforgiving ground, her knuckles connecting with her face time and time again. Blood began to seep from the woman's nose, staining the earth beneath her.

The villagers watched in horror and awe, their eyes darting between the brutal scene and Eleanor's furious face. They knew this side of her, but seeing it unfold in front of them was something else entirely.

As Eleanor's fists continued to rain down on the woman, she screamed in pain and begged for mercy. But Eleanor showed no signs of stopping. Her rage was a living thing, consuming her until there was nothing left but the primal need for vengeance.

Finally, as the woman lay motionless on the ground, her face a mask of blood and bruises, Eleanor stepped back. She looked down at her handiwork, her chest heaving with exertion and emotion. The villagers stood frozen, their eyes wide with shock and fear.

Eleanor turned to face the crowd, her eyes hard and unyielding. "Anyone else have something to say about me or my mother?" she growled, her voice a low, threatening rumble. The villagers remained silent, their fear of her power and wrath palpable.

With one last, defiant glare at the crumpled figure on the ground, Eleanor strode away from the scene, leaving the villagers to pick up the pieces. As she disappeared into the distance, the echo of her name on their lips was both a warning and a prayer.