1. The Beast of Ravenspire

CHAPTER 1

THE BEAST OF RAVENSPIRE

T he gentle flicker of candlelight dances across the ancient pages of the manuscript, casting shadows that waver like ghosts. Luca sits hunched over his desk, his fingers delicately tracing the faded ink of the text as if by touch alone he can unlock its deeper mysteries. The scent of old parchment, dust, and wax fills the air, grounding him in a place where time doesn't seem to exist.

Here, in his study, surrounded by the whispers of ancient voices and the quiet rustle of pages, he feels at home.

Here, he's enough.

He caresses four words, his attention is fixed on the story that has always fascinated him most: The Beast of Ravenspire.

The tales are grim, even darker than the ones his father used to tell him as a child. The legends speak of a monstrous creature, born of the kingdom's fall—a being twisted by magic and rage, cursed to wander the shadowed ruins of Ravenspire's once-great castle.

They say it was a protector once, long ago, before something terrible befell it.

The story is simple: the Beast was created by dark magic, a warrior who tried and failed to defend Ravenspire. In the kingdom's final days, as the lands crumbled and darkness swept across the realm, the warrior was said to have been consumed by a curse. That curse transformed them into the Beast, a creature of rage and despair, who slaughters anyone who dares to enter its domain.

Luca's read the story a hundred times, but it never loses its grip on him. He can lose himself in the details—the tragedy, the sorrow, the magic. It's all so far removed from his own life, yet he feels drawn to it.

The deeper he digs into the ancient texts, the more he longs to uncover the truth hidden within the legends. Are they exaggerated tales meant to frighten, or is there a grain of reality buried beneath centuries of retelling?

His eyes scan the delicate script as his mind wanders, the familiar comfort of the text drawing him deeper into his thoughts. He loves this—loves the quiet, the solitude, the chance to dive into the past and emerge with knowledge others have long forgotten. It's in these quiet moments, surrounded by books and manuscripts, that he feels most alive.

But even here, in the sanctuary of his study, the echo of his father's voice intrudes on his peace.

"Books won't save you, Luca. You can't live your life in a library."

His father's words whisper in his mind, as sharp and cutting as they were when first spoken. Luca's hand falters, his fingers curling into a fist atop the page. How many times has his father told him that his work is a waste of time? That real men—strong men—take risks, hunt treasures, and fight for something tangible, not dreams on paper.

For as long as Luca can remember, his father's chased after elusive relics and whispered myths. He was always out there, always on the move, forever searching for the next big find.

But the elder man's adventures were never driven by the same curiosity or love for history that fills Luca's heart. No, his father hunts for glory and fortune, for the rush of standing at the edge of discovery, for the thrill of cheating death.

And what does that make Luca? A son who's spent his entire life with his nose buried in books, far away from the kind of danger and excitement his father seemed to thrive on. The scholar. The one who never leaves the safety of the library, who never ventures into the wilds where real life happens.

"You're wasting your potential, Luca," his father would say during one of their many arguments. "There's more to life than books."

Luca has no answer to that.

Not then. Not now.

He pushes back from his desk, rubbing at his temples as the familiar weight of guilt settles in his chest. His fingers drift across the pages of the manuscript, lingering on the image of the cursed warrior—the one who was transformed into a monster, damned to wander the darkened forests of Ravenspire. There's magic in books, he knows that. But there's always the sting of inadequacy, the gnawing sense that no amount of knowledge will ever be enough to fill the void his father has left with his less-than-subtle criticism.

A soft knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts.

"Come in," Luca calls, his voice tight with the remnants of his father's lingering disapproval.

The door creaks open, and a man steps into the study, his face pale, his breath ragged as though he's run all the way to deliver whatever news he carries. Luca tenses. There's something in the man's eyes—fear, dread—that makes him rise from his seat without thinking.

"Master Luca," the man gasps, bending over to catch his breath. "It's... it's your father."

Luca's blood stills in his veins. "What about him?"

"He... he's gone missing," the man wheezes. "In the cursed forest."

The words hit Luca straight in the sternum, knocking the breath from his lungs. The cursed forest. The legends he's spent years studying flood his mind—the tales of Ravenspire, the Beast, the dark magic that's twisted the land.

His father. Gone.

"How long?" Luca's voice is barely a whisper.

"Two days," the man replies, straightening himself. "We found his camp, but no sign of him. Some say he's been taken by the Beast."

The Beast.

A sharp, twisting pain rips through Luca's core. The stories. The legends. His father always chased after them, dismissing the danger as though it was just another part of the thrill. The Beast of Ravenspire—the cursed creature that roams the ancient ruins, a monster born of betrayal and loss. The legendary shard it's rumored to be guarding.

His father would have known the risk. He must have known.

"Is he...?" Luca can't finish the question.

"We don't know," the man says, shaking his head. His shoulders sag. "But no one comes back from the cursed forest."

Luca's throat constricts, his thoughts spinning wildly. The Beast of Ravenspire is just a story, isn't it? A cautionary tale to keep people from venturing too far into the dark, enchanted forest.

But there are too many stories. Too many disappearances.

"No," Luca says, more to himself than to the messenger. "No, he's still alive. He has to be."

The man shifts uncomfortably. "There's no way of knowing. No one who enters that forest returns. If the Beast has him, he's already gone."

Luca's gaze falls on the parchment he's just been reading as the man's words hang in the air like a death sentence. Already gone. His father—gone. Taken by the curse, by the very thing Luca's spent years reading about, dissecting in ancient texts.

But those were stories, abstract and distant. Legends. Not real life.

Now it's real, painfully real.

And he can't sit here and wait for the man who raised him to be another scrawl in the ledgers of those lost to the curse.

He stares down at his hands, his fingers trembling slightly as the weight of it all settles on his shoulders. Can he really do this? Can he go after his father and face the Beast that's taken so many before him? The forest is cursed, and no one who ventures into its depths ever returns. What chance does he have?

The truth gnaws at him, whispering in the back of his mind.

You're not strong enough.

He's not a warrior. He's not brave or bold like his father. He's not the kind of man who charges headlong into danger, defying death at every turn. He's a scholar, someone who lives in the world of knowledge and reason, where safety lies in words on a page, not in the risks of the real world.

He thinks of his father's voice, always dismissive of Luca's careful nature, always belittling his love for books and history. "You hide in your study, Luca. That's not living. You'll never know what it feels like to be out there, to feel the thrill of discovery."

And yet, despite the bitterness that often simmers between them, Luca still feels the pull of that unshakable bond. His father's reckless and stubborn, but he's also his father. The one person who's been there all his life, pushing him, even if it's often felt more like pushing him away.

Luca curls his hands into fists, stemming the trembling. No. He can't let his father's final moments be spent alone, in some forgotten corner of a cursed forest, lost to the darkness. Even if there's nothing he can do, even if the Beast has already taken him, he needs to know.

He needs to try.

"I'm going after him," Luca says, his voice shaky at first, then stronger.

There's no room for hesitation now. He has to believe that he can do this, even if every instinct tells him otherwise.

The man opens his mouth to protest, but Luca waves him off. "I don't care about the stories. I'll find him."

His heart thunders in his chest, every beat echoing his fear, but also his resolve. It doesn't matter if the legends are true, if the forest is cursed, if the Beast is real. This is his father, and Luca will do whatever it takes, even if it means facing the same darkness that's swallowed so many others.

The messenger hesitates, his expression conflicted. He glances down at his feet, then back up at Luca, the weight of the moment clear in his eyes. He gives a small nod, almost defeated, and backs out of the room with a quiet, "Good luck, Master Luca."

As the door clicks shut, silence falls over the room. Luca stands there for a long moment, the reality of his decision settling over him like a shroud. His legs feel heavy, his heart a resounding drum that feels way too loud. The knowledge he'sn't strong like his father settles in his gut, the first thing to accompany him on this foolhardy quest.

"Yet, I'm all you have," he says quietly, wishing his voice didn't waver.

Luca grabs his satchel and begins packing it with everything he thinks he might need—maps, manuscripts, a few essential supplies. As he slips an old manuscript into his bag, Luca's fingers brush against the worn title: The Last Protector. It's a text he's read a hundred times, the story of the once-great warrior who was cursed and transformed into the Beast.

Of a magical shard it protects at all costs.

A chill runs down Luca's spine. He's spent years reading about the Beast, piecing together the fragments of its tragic tale, but now the story isn't just an old legend. His father is out there, somewhere in that cursed forest, lost to the very thing he always dismissed as myth.

Luca tightens his grip on the satchel strap. He doesn't know what he'll face in that dark place, but it doesn't matter. His father needs him, and that is all the reason he needs.

He will find him.

Whatever it takes.

The cursed forest looms before Luca, its jagged, twisted trees rising like sentinels against the darkening sky. An icy wind whistles through the barren branches, rattling the leaves like brittle bones. The thick fog that clings to the forest floor seems alive, curling and shifting, as though it's watching him, waiting for him to make the first move.

Luca dismounts from his horse, his breath catching in his throat as his boots sink into the soft, damp ground. The air here is different—thick, heavy with the scent of rotting wood and wet earth. It clings to his skin, dampening his clothes and chilling him to the bone. Everything about this place feels wrong, as if the land itself has been twisted by the curse that swallowed Ravenspire so many years ago.

He stands at the edge of the cursed forest, the weight of what he's about to do pressing down on him like a leaden cloak. His heart thumps against his ribs, every instinct screaming at him to turn back, to run.

But he can't.

Not now.

Not when his father's life depends on it.

Luca swallows hard, tightening his grip on the satchel slung over his shoulder. He can hear his father's voice in his head, mocking him for his hesitation.

"You're too cautious, Luca. You'll never understand what it means to really live if you're always hiding in that study of yours."

A familiar pang of guilt ripples through him, but he forces it down. This isn't about proving himself. This isn't about showing his father that he's capable of more than just reading books and studying ancient texts.

This is about saving his father's life.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself as he steps forward, crossing the threshold into the cursed forest. Behind him, his horse whinnies and gallops away, no doubt relieved to put distance between itself and the evil tainting the air.

Luca tightens his jaw, not allowing himself to do what every muscle screams at him to do—follow the wise animal. Instead, he focuses on putting one boot in front of the other.

He focuses on following in his father's footsteps.

Immediately, the air grows colder, the fog thickening around him like a living thing. The silence is deafening. No birds, no insects, no rustling leaves—just the eerie stillness of a place long forgotten by time.

The trees close in around him, their twisted branches reaching out like claws, scraping against his skin and pulling at his clothes. The fog swirls at his feet, creeping up his legs as though trying to pull him under. His breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, the weight of the forest pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

He's read about this place. He knows the stories of how the forest was once vibrant and full of life before the curse took hold. Now, it's a wasteland—a place where darkness reigns, and nothing good can survive. The Beast has made its home here, deep in the heart of the forest, and no one who has entered has ever returned.

Would he even recognize his father's body if he found it?

Shoving away the terrifying thought, Luca fumbles with the map in his satchel, trying to focus on the path ahead. But the map is old, and the forest has changed since the last time anyone dared to document it. The trees are no longer where they should be, the landmarks obscured by the creeping fog.

He's already lost, and the forest seems intent on keeping it that way.

It's too soon for every step to feel heavier, more difficult, but they do. His legs ache from the strain, and his breath comes in short, shallow bursts. His eyes dart from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of movement. The stories spoke of the creatures that roam these woods—animals twisted by the same curse that created the monster that stalks the heart of Ravenspire.

The Beast.

Luca's stomach twists in knots at the thought of it. He's spent years reading about the cursed warrior, about the fall of Ravenspire and the dark magic that twisted the protector into something monstrous.

But none of the stories prepared him for the reality of being here, for the crushing weight of fear that seeps into his bones the moment he stepped foot into the cursed forest.

He can feel the presence of something watching him, lurking just out of sight, waiting for him to make a mistake. His throat tightens as the sensation grows stronger with each passing moment.

The Beast is out there, somewhere, and it's only a matter of time before it finds him.

The sound of a branch snapping behind him makes Luca's blood run cold. He freezes, his body a living statue as he strains to listen. The fog shifts, parting slightly as something moves through the trees.

His breath hitches in his throat, his heart hammering in his chest as he slowly turns, his eyes wide with fear.

There's nothing. Just shadows and fog, twisting in the half light of the setting sun.

But the feeling of being watched doesn't go away. If anything, it grows stronger, more oppressive, as though the forest itself is closing in around him.

Luca takes a shaky breath, forcing his legs to move. He can't stop now. Not when he's so close.

He has to find the Beast.

He has to find his father.

But every step forward feels like a step deeper into a nightmare. The fog thickens, the trees grow taller, darker, more twisted with each passing moment. His breath is a jagged rasp, his palms slick with sweat as he stumbles through the forest, his mind racing with fear and desperation.

Then, through the haze, it appears.

A structure, rising from the ground like the broken spine of some long-dead creature. The crumbling towers of an ancient castle, half-swallowed by the gnarled roots of the forest, stand before him, shrouded in mist. The stones are blackened, the walls cracked and crumbling, as though the very earth has tried to reclaim the ruins. But it's still standing, barely, a remnant of a time long past.

Luca's breath snags deep in his chest. This is it.

The Beast's lair.

He hesitates, his feet rooted to the spot as dread washes over him. His father came here, chasing after the crystal, after the stories.

And now he's gone, lost to the curse, to the Beast.

The fog shifts, curling around Luca's ankles like a snake, and a low, rumbling growl echoes through the trees. It's a sound so deep, so primal, that it shakes him to his core. His entire body goes rigid, his heart thundering in his chest as the air grows impossibly cold.

The Beast is near.

He can feel it.

His eyes dart around, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. The growl grows louder, closer, reverberating through the ground beneath his feet.

And then he sees it.

The Beast materializes through the fog like a nightmare forged from flesh. Barely visible, it's massive, hulking, its body twisted and warped by the curse. It's unlike anything he's ever imagined, its presence overwhelming, suffocating.

The creature lingers in the shadows, its massive form cloaked in darkness. Only its eyes shine through, gleaming with a strange, haunting light. The rest of its body is hidden, just a silhouette of sharp edges and jagged shadows.

But even as fear grips him, something else stirs deep inside him.

There's something in the Beast's eyes—something that makes Luca hesitate. Amidst the glowing, animalistic rage, there's a flicker of something... human.

And when it shifts, just slightly, Luca catches a glimpse—a hint of the curve of a shoulder, the faintest suggestion of a shape that isn't entirely monstrous.

A shape that is... feminine.

His breath hitches, shock mingling with confusion. He hadn't expected that. Hadn't imagined that the creature—this Beast—could be anything other than a mindless monster. But now... now he's not sure.

Now, with that small revelation, everything feels different.

His hands shake as he steps forward, his voice barely a whisper, trembling as it escapes his lips.

"I'm not here to fight. I'm here to offer myself in exchange for my father."

The Beast's growl deepens, a sound so low and menacing that it seems to shake the very air. Luca can feel the weight of the creature's gaze on him, piercing through the fog, through his skin, down to his very soul.

For a moment, the world stands still.

Then the Beast moves, her claws scraping against the stone and dirt as she circles him, slow and deliberate. Luca's legs tremble, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as he fights to hold his ground.

He's come this far.

He can't back down now.