5. Into the Cursed Forest

CHAPTER 5

INTO THE CURSED FOREST

L uca stares at the faded, crumbling text spread out before him, his brow furrowed in concentration. The edges of the parchment are brittle under his fingertips, the ink so faded in places that it's almost impossible to read.

But he can't give up—not when he's so close. The words are just barely legible, the language archaic, but he pieces it together slowly, line by line, the hours slipping away unnoticed.

The air in the ruined library is cold and still, the only sounds are the faint whisper of pages turning and the distant creak of the castle settling around him. Shadows pool in the corners of the room, cast by the weak, flickering light of the lantern he managed to scrounge up. He hasn't seen Brynn since she told him to leave. Now, he's alone with his thoughts and the small collection of ancient, half-burned texts he found.

And with the Solheart shard.

It sits beside him, resting on the edge of the table like a fallen star, its soft light casting faint, shimmering patterns across the dusty floor. Luca glances at it again, his breath shallow. He still doesn't understand what it's, what it's meant to be. But he knows — feels —that there's more to it than just a broken fragment of lost magic.

He turns back to the text, his eyes scanning the faded lines.

"‘When the light fades, the heart will shatter, and in its place, only darkness will reign...' No, that's not right," he mutters softly, his voice barely a breath in the stillness. "‘The heart... the heart of the land... no, that's not it either.'" He runs a hand through his hair, frustration simmering beneath the surface. There has to be something here—some clue, some answer hidden in the fractured lines of these forgotten histories.

But the more he reads, the more it feels like chasing shadows.

And then a single line catches his eye.

"In the Eldergrove, where the magic of the land first bled into shadow, the darkness took root."

Luca's breath hitches, then evaporates . The Eldergrove. He read about it before, long ago, in one of the rare texts that survived the fall of Ravenspire. It's said to be a place of power, where the magic of the kingdom had been strongest. A sanctuary, a heart of light and life... before the curse twisted it.

Before it turned into something dark and dangerous.

If the grove is where the curse first took root, then it might also be the place where it can be broken.

His pulse quickens as he reads on, his eyes darting over the faded script.

"The Eldergrove, once a sanctuary of light, now lies corrupted, a place where the boundaries between life and death blur..."

He skims the rest of the page, piecing together fragments of the text. The grove's no longer safe. The magic that once protected it has been twisted, turned into something dark and malevolent. But if the texts are right, then the grove still holds power—power that might be tied to the shard, to Brynn, to everything that has happened here.

"Maybe..." Luca breathes, hope flickering in his chest. "Maybe this is it. Maybe this is where we'll find the answers."

He looks up, his gaze shifting to the shadowed doorway. Brynn's vanished into the darkness of the castle without a word. He doesn't know if she'll come back, doesn't know if she'll even listen to what he has to say.

But he has to try.

Just as he begins to gather the text and the shard, a low, familiar growl echoes through the silence.

"Making progress, scholar?" Brynn's voice is soft, dangerous, the faintest hint of mockery curling through the words. She shifts in the shadows at the edge of the room, her eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "Or are you finally beginning to realize that all of this is a waste of time?"

Luca's throat is so tight it hurts, but he doesn't look away. "No," he says quietly. "I'm not giving up."

She arches a brow, her lip curling. "Of course you're not." She circles the edge of the room, the faint sound of her claws clicking against the stone floor sending a shiver down his spine. "So, tell me, then—what have you found that's worth risking your life over?"

For a moment, Luca hesitates. He can feel her eyes on him, sharp and assessing, waiting. Warning.

But then he takes a deep breath, steadying himself, and turns the text toward her.

"The Eldergrove," he says softly. "It's a place of power. A sanctuary that was corrupted when the curse took root. If the texts are right, it might hold the answers we're looking for—the answers you're looking for."

Brynn's eyes narrow, her gaze flicking to the faded lines of text. "The Eldergrove," she murmurs, her voice distant, as if the word itself carries some terrible weight. "You think you'll find the answers there?"

"I think it's worth a try," Luca says, his voice steady. "If the curse began there, then maybe... maybe it can be ended there, too."

Brynn stares at him, her expression unreadable. For a long moment, the silence stretches between them, heavy and tense. Then, slowly, she shakes her head.

"You're a fool," she whispers, her voice soft, almost... sad . "There's no hope there, Luca. Only darkness. Only death."

"Maybe," Luca agrees quietly. "But we have to try."

The image of his father's face flashes in his mind—the man he's fighting for, the man he vowed to save. But it isn't just about his father anymore. Breaking the curse could free Brynn, could save her, and maybe, just maybe, it could restore Ravenspire itself. He'll do whatever it takes. Whatever is needed.

For his father.

For Brynn.

And for the kingdom he never thought he'd be part of.

So Luca holds her gaze, refusing to back down, and for a moment, something flickers in her eyes—something raw and painful and achingly human. Then she looks away, her claws twitching and flexing.

"It's too dangerous," she murmurs, more to herself than to him. "The grove isn't what it used to be. It's... twisted. Corrupted. There are things in that forest, things that shouldn't exist. And if the curse is spreading..."

She trails off, her shoulders tensing, and Luca almost takes a step closer. "What is it?" he asks quietly.

"The forest is changing," she says, her voice low, strained. "I can feel it. The curse is spreading faster. The creatures out there... they're becoming more aggressive. More... wrong . " Her gaze shifts to him, sharp and dangerous. "If we leave, we might not make it back."

Luca ignores the thudding of his heart as he stares right back. "That's fine. I won't come back until we find the answers, anyway." He takes a deep breath and holds her gaze. "But if I don't return… you'll set my father free."

A flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crosses Brynn's face. But then she nods slowly, her jaw tightening. "Agreed."

Luca's stomach twists, but he pushes forward. "And he'll be taken care of while we're gone?"

For a heartbeat, Brynn hesitates. Then her lips press into a thin line. "He already is," she says quietly. "I made sure of it."

Luca blinks, surprise rippling through him. "What do you mean?"

But Brynn turns away, the moment slipping past before he can grasp it. "We should go. We don't have time for this."

Frustration burns at the edges of his thoughts, but Luca forces it down. He'll ask her again later—push harder if he has to. But for now... he nods slowly, his mind whirling.

Brynn's claws flex, a soft, restless twitch that speaks volumes. She stares at him, her eyes narrowing, and then—slowly, reluctantly—she nods.

"Very well," she says softly. "But don't think for a moment that this means I believe in you, scholar. If you die out there, it's on your head."

"I understand," Luca says quietly. "But I won't die."

He can't. His father depends on him.

And somehow, it's just as important to not let Brynn down.

Her lips curl into a bitter smile. "We'll see."

And with that, she turns sharply away, stalking out of the chamber. Luca watches her go, his heart racing, hope and fear warring in his chest.

The Eldergrove. It's their only chance—his only chance to save her. And no matter what waits for them in the heart of the cursed forest, he won't give up.

He can't give up.

Because even if Brynn doesn't believe it, he does.

There's still hope.

As if in response to his thoughts, a sudden flare of light catches his eye. Luca's gaze snaps to the shard on its pedestal, the soft, golden glow intensifying for a brief, breathless moment before fading back to its usual, muted shimmer.

His breath catches. The shard has been so lifeless, so dull. But now...

He takes a small step forward, trying to understand but failing to. Whatever it means, it feels like a sign. Brynn might not believe they have a chance, but the shard of Solheart disagrees.

Luca's jaw tightens, his resolve hardening. He'll find the answers, no matter what it takes.

For her.

For the kingdom.

And for the light that still lingers within the darkness.

The air in the cursed forest is thick with a darkness that seems to cling to Luca's skin like a living thing. Mist curls around the gnarled, blackened trees, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, casting long, sinister shadows that seem to move and writhe when he'sn't looking. The ground beneath his feet is uneven, choked with tangled roots and thorny undergrowth, and every step sends a shiver of unease skittering down his spine.

It feels wrong here. More than just dangerous—unnatural.

As if the very land itself is alive, watching him, waiting for a chance to strike.

Brynn moves silently beside him, her massive form blending almost seamlessly into the shadows. Even with her size, she makes no sound, no rustle of leaves or snap of twigs to betray her presence. She's a creature of this place, a part of the darkness that's twisted and corrupted the land.

And yet... Luca doesn't feel threatened by her. Not the way he should.

"Stay close," she growls softly, her voice barely more than a whisper in the still, heavy air. Her eyes, glowing faintly in the gloom, flick to him, sharp and wary. "There are things in these woods that won't hesitate to tear you apart if you stray."

"I will," Luca murmurs, his voice equally quiet.

His gaze lingers on her a moment longer, unable to make out detail, but taking in the tension in her shoulders, the way her claws flex at her sides. She's on edge, more so than he's ever seen her, and the realization sends a shiver through him.

If Brynn's nervous, then he has every reason to be afraid.

The forest presses in around them, the shadows shifting and thickening as they move deeper into the twisted heart of the woods. The air grows colder, the mist thicker, swirling around their legs in ghostly tendrils. Every so often, Luca catches a glimpse of movement in the corner of his vision—a flash of dark fur, the gleam of red eyes watching them from the underbrush.

But when he turns to look, there's nothing there. Just shadows and silence.

"What are those things?" he whispers, his voice tight.

"Creatures twisted by the curse," Brynn replies, her gaze sweeping the darkness around them. "Wolves, bears, ravens… all corrupted. The magic's warped them, turned them into something… unnatural. They're not truly alive, not truly dead. Just… trapped."

Her voice is low, filled with something that sounds almost like… compassion. Luca glances at her, his heart tightening. "Like you."

Brynn's eyes flash, her lips peeling back in a snarl. "No," she snaps. "Not like me. I'm still... I'm still..." She trails off, hunkering into herself. She shakes her head, turning away. "It doesn't matter. They're dangerous, and they'll kill you if you're not careful. So stay close."

Luca nods, biting his lip. What was she about to say? I'm still what? Still human? Still herself?

He doesn't know. But he wants to.

More than he should.

They continue on in tense silence, the forest growing darker and more oppressive with each step. The twisted trees loom, blocking out what little light filters through the heavy canopy. The ground is uneven, choked with thick, pulsing roots, making every step a struggle. Just the journey to the heart of the forest is going to be a battle.

And then, without warning, the ground shifts.

Luca cries out as he stumbles, falling hard as the soil seems to collapse, opening up into a gaping pit lined with jagged roots and thorns.

"Luca!" Brynn's voice is a sharp, furious snarl, but he barely hears it over the rush of panic.

He scrabbles at the slick, muddy walls, trying to find purchase as the pit yawns beneath him, dark and endless.

But it's too late.

With a sickening lurch, the ground gives way entirely, and Luca plummets into the darkness.

He hits the bottom with a bone-jarring thud, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Pain flares in his side, his head spinning as he struggles to orient himself. For a moment, everything is a blur of darkness and pain, the world whirling around him in a dizzying whirl of shadows and terror.

And then something moves.

The roots around him shift, curling and coiling like living things. They wrap around his legs, his arms, his chest, pulling him down, tightening like iron bands. Luca gasps, struggling against the sudden, crushing pressure. The roots are cold and slick, pulsing faintly with a dark, twisted magic that seems to seep into his skin, burning and freezing all at once.

"Brynn!" he chokes, panic flaring hot and sharp.

The roots tighten, squeezing the air from his lungs, pulling him deeper into the pit. He tries to thrash, tries to claw his way free, but it's like fighting against steel. The roots are too strong, too unyielding.

This is it, he thinks wildly. This is how I die.

Why did he think he'd get very far?

And then, a flash of movement—a blur of shadow and gleaming claws—and the roots around him recoil.

Brynn lands in the pit beside him, her massive form looming over him like a dark, avenging angel. Her claws flash, slashing through the twisted roots with a ferocity that awes him. The roots shriek as they're torn apart, the dark magic within them unraveling in a burst of foul-smelling smoke.

"Hold on," Brynn snarls, tearing through the roots. "Don't you dare die on me, scholar."

The pressure around Luca's chest eases and he sucks in a ragged breath, gasping as the darkness around him seems to recede.

Then his breath disintegrates all over again, despite the roots loosening and crumbling beneath Brynn's claws.

Brynn is close. Closer than she's ever been.

And for the first time, he truly sees her.

She's a terrifying sight, and yet...something about her appearance sends a shiver down his spine that isn't entirely born of fear.

Her body is massive, towering over him, a dark, hulking shape that seems to blend seamlessly into the shadows of the pit. Every inch of her is covered in thick, dark fur—midnight black shot through with faint silver streaks that glint in the dim light. Her limbs are powerful, corded with muscle, and her hands—if they can be called that—end in long, curved claws, each one as sharp as a blade and just as deadly.

But it's her face that draws Luca's attention, holds him captive even as his heart races with a primal, instinctive terror.

Her features are bestial, yes—sharpened, elongated, a terrible blend of human and something else, something wild and feral. Her eyes are large and luminous, glowing faintly with a cold, unnatural light. Her mouth is a snarl of sharp teeth, jagged and uneven, lips pulled back in a perpetual grimace that makes her look more like a predator than a person.

And yet...

There's something almost… regal about her.

A strange, haunting beauty is hidden beneath the monstrous exterior. Her fur, though rough and unkempt, has a softness to it, a faint sheen that reminds him of the velvet shadows of twilight. Her movements, though powerful, aren't clumsy or brutish. They're precise, controlled, almost graceful, like a great cat prowling through the night.

Even her face, twisted as it is, still holds traces of the woman she once was. High cheekbones, a strong, proud jaw, a shape to her brow that hints at something… human. Something that's been broken rather than destroyed.

And those eyes... They're not the eyes of a beast. They're the eyes of someone who's suffered, someone who's lost everything and been left with nothing but rage and sorrow.

"Brynn," Luca whispers, his voice shaking.

She doesn't answer. She just grabs him, her claws—those deadly, gleaming claws—surprisingly gentle as she lifts him free of the last of the roots and pulls him into her arms. All it takes is one leap and they're out of the pit and back amongst the twisted trees.

For a moment, they stand there, her breath hot and ragged against his skin, redefining the laws of predator and prey.

"Thank you," Luca murmurs, his voice barely more than a breath.

Brynn stiffens. Her claws twitch, digging into his arms, and then—slowly, reluctantly—she sets him down, stepping back with a low, growling snarl.

"Don't thank me," she spats, her voice harsh. "I only saved you because you're still useful."

But as she turns away, Luca sees it again—that flicker of something in her eyes. Something raw and painful.

Something human.

How can someone who looks like her—someone who is like her—be capable of such emotion? Such… vulnerability?

She's a beast. A monster. A creature of darkness and shadow, twisted by a curse that's broken her mind and body.

And yet… she's still Brynn. Still someone who feels, who thinks, who hurts.

"You're not just a beast," he whispers softly, almost to himself.

Her head snaps around, eyes blazing, teeth bared in a furious snarl. "What did you say?"

Luca's throat tightens, but he forces himself to hold her gaze. "You're not just a beast," he repeats, his voice steady. "You're more than that."

For a moment, Brynn just stares at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes wild and feral. And then, with a low, dangerous growl, she turns sharply away, stalking into the darkness beyond.

"Keep moving, scholar," she snaps over her shoulder. "And try not to die."

Luca watches her go, his thoughts a whirl of confusion and fear and something else—something warm and aching that he doesn't fully understand.

She's terrifying. She's dangerous. But she's also… beautiful.

Not in the way that people usually mean, not in the way he's been taught to think of beauty. But in a way that's haunting and tragic, a way that makes his chest clench painfully whenever he looks at her. She's a creature of darkness, a woman trapped in the body of a monster.

And yet… she's a woman.

A person.

A soul.

He doesn't understand her. Not yet. But he wants to. More than anything, he wants to understand who she really is—the woman trapped within the shell of the Beast.

"I'll stay close," he says softly. "I promise."

Brynn glares at him, her eyes blazing. Then, with a low, frustrated growl, she turns sharply away, her shoulders stiff.

Luca watches her go, his skin still tingling where she has touched him.

And then, slowly, painfully, he follows.