7. The Forgotten Path

CHAPTER 7

THE FORGOTTEN PATH

L uca sits by the low-burning fire, his shoulders tense as he chews on the bread and jerky Brynn has carelessly tossed his way. The night air feels heavy—thick with an energy that seems to hum beneath his skin. He glances at her as she prowls the edges of their small camp, her form a shadow moving just beyond the reach of the flames.

Restlessness rolls off her in waves. Every few steps, she pauses, her gaze sweeping the darkness. She's been like this since sunset, more agitated than usual, as if something out there calls to her.

"You should sit," he calls softly. "At least for a few minutes."

She doesn't answer. Doesn't even turn his way.

Just keeps circling the edges of the clearing, eyes scanning the shadows as if she can see threats where he only sees darkness.

The way she moves, coiled tight, every muscle strung with tension, makes his chest ache. But when doesn't it? Every moment around her is like watching someone teeter on the edge of a knife, one wrong step away from falling into a void he can't reach.

"Brynn," he tries again, sharper this time, a bite of impatience leaking through. "You're going to wear yourself out."

She keeps walking, her back rigid, ignoring him as thoroughly as if he'd never spoken. Or maybe she doesn't hear him.

Maybe she just doesn't care.

Luca's jaw clenches. He isn't even sure why he keeps trying—what's the point, when she's already decided she doesn't need anyone? Every time he thinks they've made progress, every time she lets him in just enough for a flicker of her old self to show, she pulls back twice as hard.

Bolts the door shut and throws away the key.

He runs a hand through his hair, fingers tangling roughly in the strands as his gaze follows her restless form. "I'm serious, you need to?—"

"Stop telling me what I need," she snaps, her expression unreadable in the half-light. "I'm fine."

"Are you?" The words come out harsher than he intends, harder. He stands abruptly, the motion jerky, as if he can shake off the tangled mess of emotions building inside him. "Because you look anything but fine to me."

She pauses, her shoulders stiffening, but doesn't turn. Luca's chest tightens, frustration flaring hot. It isn't just her stubbornness. It's everything. This whole journey feels like chasing shadows, one step forward and two steps back, never knowing if the next thing they face will be the thing that finally breaks her.

Or breaks him.

And what's he really done? Nothing. He's stood by, helpless, while she suffers. But she won't talk to him, won't let him share any of the burden—won't even acknowledge that he cares. And the more she shuts him out, the more useless he feels, each rejection scraping at the vulnerable places inside him that tell him he'sn't enough.

"You're so damn stubborn," he grinds out. "You know that? Do you even want this curse broken?"

The question slips out before he can stop it, a quiet, raw demand that seems to hang in the air between them like a living thing.

Brynn's head jerks up, eyes flashing. For a moment, her whole body goes still, frozen mid-step. When she turns, the look she gives him is sharp enough to draw blood.

"What did you say?" she whispers, the words a low growl, simmering with something dangerous.

But Luca doesn't back down. Can't. Because there it is—the truth he's been biting back since they left the castle. The truth that claws at his chest every time she refuses his help. "You heard me. Do you even want it broken, or are you just holding on because the pain is all you have left?"

Her gaze narrows, fury tightening her features, and for a heartbeat he thinks she might lunge at him. She looks feral, more beast than woman, eyes glowing like embers in the dark. But it isn't the threat of violence that makes his pulse leap—it's the look in her eyes.

The flash of something brittle and fractured, the shadow of a truth he didn't mean to expose.

"I want it gone more than you could possibly understand," Brynn bites out. "But don't think for one second that means I'll just… sit back and wait for you to fix it for me."

"That's not—" He breaks off, a bitter laugh escaping before he can stop it. "You really think that's what I'm trying to do? Just—fix you?"

"Isn't it?" Her eyes narrow further, and he catches the faintest gleam of teeth. "You've been trying to save me since the day we met, as if it's some sort of quest you have to complete. Like I'm?—"

"You're not a quest," he interrupts, voice hard. "But you're not alone, either. And I don't know why that's so damn impossible for you to accept."

"Because I am alone!" she snarls, the words ripping from her throat like something wild and painful. "I've always been alone."

Luca flinches, the force of her confession hitting him like a blow to the gut. Brynn's breathing hard, every muscle trembling, and for the first time, he can see it—the fragility behind her rage. The way she holds herself together by sheer force of will.

One wrong word, one wrong move, and she'll shatter.

"Brynn," he murmurs, softer now. "You're not. Not anymore."

But she turns sharply away, shoulders heaving. "Don't."

The single, broken word makes something twist inside him. But he can't keep pushing. Not tonight.

He watches her for a long moment, helpless frustration swirling through him. There's nothing else he can say. No way to reach her when the pain runs so deep she can't even see the hand he's offering. With a rough sigh, he rakes a hand through his hair again and steps back, his chest tight.

"All right," he mutters. "Keep running, then. Keep pushing everyone away."

Her head snaps up at that, eyes narrowing dangerously, but he doesn't wait for her response. Doesn't need to see the way her jaw clenches, the way her hands curl into fists. He turns sharply, retreating to the other side of the clearing.

Maybe he's gone too far. Maybe he's just made things worse. But he can't keep pretending it doesn't hurt—pretending it doesn't tear him apart every time she shoves him aside like he's some useless bystander. He cares.

"And if that makes me a fool, then so be it," he mutters under his breath, dropping down by the smoldering fire.

But as he settles into his place by the dying flames, eyes still fixed on the shadowy form of the woman he can't give up on, one thought keeps circling through his mind, sharp and relentless.

What am I supposed to do if she doesn't want to be saved?

The air shifts suddenly, the tension in it sharpens. Luca freezes, instincts flaring as a chill crawls up his spine. "Brynn?"

But she's already turning, eyes wide, nostrils flaring. "Something's here."

Before he can react, the world around them seems to ripple.

The ground shudders beneath his feet, and the clearing melts away. The fire snuffs out as if by an unseen hand. Luca stumbles back, his vision blurring, darkness surging up to swallow him?—

And then he's standing in a familiar place. A place that feels like a lifetime away, even though he only just left it.

"No," he whispers, dread pooling in his gut. "This isn't real."

He's in a cottage—the cottage—tucked away in the woods where he spent his childhood. The place his father raised him, his home. But this is wrong. It shouldn't be here, not in this forest. Not when his father is trapped somewhere else… somewhere he can't reach.

Luca's hands shake as he looks around, the details too sharp, too vivid. The worn table in the corner, the shelves lined with jars of herbs and remedies. The scent of damp earth and old wood fills his lungs, mingling with something sour—something that makes his stomach churn.

He staggers forward, a horrible sense of déjà vu twisting through him.

"Father?" he calls out, the word slipping past his lips before he can stop it.

He sees him.

His father stands hunched over in the far corner, his back turned, shoulders bent and trembling. Luca's breath catches in his throat. It's just a vision, just a trick of the cursed forest, but?—

"Father?" He takes a step closer, heart thundering. "Is that… is that really you?"

The figure shifts slowly, turning. Luca's pulse stutters, everything inside him screaming to run, to turn away, to—don't look?—

"Help me, Luca."

The voice is weak, rasping. Luca freezes as his father turns fully, and for a moment, everything inside him breaks.

His father's face is gaunt and pale, eyes hollow with pain. But there's recognition there. A pleading, desperate look that cuts through Luca's heart like a razor.

"Help me, please," his father whispers, reaching out a trembling hand. "I've been calling for you. Why… why won't you come?"

"I—" The words tangle in Luca's throat, sharp with guilt and confusion. "Father, I—" He drops to his knees, hands reaching out. "I'm trying—every time I get close, something?—"

"You abandoned me," his father interrupts, voice twisting, breaking. The plea turns bitter, eyes narrowing. "You left me there. With her."

"No, no—" Luca's chest tightens painfully. "I didn't. I—" But his father's words burrow deep, scraping against every fear, every doubt that's gnawed at him for years. "I'm coming. I'll get you out, I swear?—"

"Liar." His father's face contorts, the lines deepening, shadows crawling across his skin. "Just like you've always been."

Luca flinches, a hot rush of shame and anger burning in his veins. "I'm trying! Don't you see? I'm trying to save you?—"

"You're trying to save her." His father spits the last word, eyes flashing dark and wild. "You think breaking this curse will fix anything? You think it will save me?"

Luca's breath burns in his lungs. The scene shifts, twisting around him, and suddenly his father is no longer in the cottage. He's standing in a dark, crumbling room—stone walls stained with moss and grime, chains binding his wrists and ankles. The sight of it sends a jolt of horror through Luca's veins. He's imagined this—seen this in his nightmares, the image haunting him ever since he learned that's where his father is.

"No," Luca whispers, stumbling forward. "This—this isn't?—"

"Too late," his father murmurs, eyes empty. "You'll always be too late. You can't save me. You're not enough."

"I will," Luca chokes out, his voice breaking. "I will—I swear, just hold on?—"

Except the shadows deepen, crawling up his father's legs, wrapping around his wrists, pulling him down. Luca lunges forward, heart hammering wildly, but his hands pass through empty air.

"No!" he shouts, desperation tearing at his throat. "No, please!"

"You'll fail," his father whispers. "You'll fail her. Just like you failed me."

"No!" Luca reaches out, hands clawing at the darkness as it swallows his father whole. "No, please—don't?—"

"Luca, fight it!"

A voice cuts through the illusion, sharp and familiar. Luca gasps, stumbling back as the darkness shatters around him. His vision blurs, then clears—and suddenly he's back in the clearing, back in the forest. His pulse races, chest heaving as he looks around wildly?—

"Brynn?" he breathes, disoriented.

And then he sees her.

She stands just a few feet away, body trembling, her form wavering between human and Beast. Her eyes—bright, desperate—lock onto his, and in that moment, he knows. It hasn't just been him.

She's seen something too.

"I'm here," he whispers, breath still coming in ragged gasps. "I'm here."

But she doesn't answer. Doesn't move. Just stands there, staring at him with that haunted look in her eyes.

"Luca…" Her voice is a low growl, thick with pain. "What did you see?"

His eyes flutter shut, the memory of his father's face—twisted in agony, bound in chains—still burning behind his eyes. "Nothing," he whispers hoarsely, looking back at Brynn. "It was—nothing."

Her gaze narrows, but she doesn't press him. She just stands there as the forest around them seems to gloat, the shadows whispering of truths neither of them wants to face.

Slowly, Luca reaches out, his hand trembling as he touches Brynn's arm. The fur beneath his fingertips is soft, warm—alive. Real. It grounds him, anchors him, even as the memory of the illusion claws at his mind.

"We'll get through this," he murmurs. "Together."

Brynn flinches, but doesn't pull away. Her eyes meet his—uncertain, wary.

"Together," she echoes softly.

And for the first time, Luca feels a flicker of hope. Because if he can reach her, if he can keep them both from breaking… maybe, just maybe, they can win.

Save his father.

Save Ravenspire.

And save the one who tried to protect them all.