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9. The Truth Behind the Shard

CHAPTER 9

THE TRUTH BEHIND THE SHARD

L uca keeps his gaze on Brynn as they move, watching the rigid set of her shoulders, the tension that ripples through her every time a branch snaps or a leaf rustles. She hasn't looked at him since the argument, and the distance between them feels like a chasm.

His fingers tighten around the shard in his palm. The smooth surface is cool against his skin, its faint, pulsing glow almost imperceptible in the dark. It's not broken , he thinks determinedly. She's not broken. If only she'd believe that. If only he could make her see.

He sighs, frustration knotting his chest. What will it take to break through to her? He's seen the truth—seen how deeply the fear runs, how convinced she is that she's too dangerous, too far gone. She's terrified of herself, terrified of hurting him.

But it isn't true.

He knows it isn't true.

Luca glances down at the shard, turning it over in his hand. The light flickers faintly, a weak, struggling glow that seems to pulse in time with his own racing thoughts. He frowns, studying the shard more closely. It's felt… different when Brynn holds it, hasn't it? Flaring bright and bold one moment, then unstable and dim the next.

And every time she loses faith, every time her emotions swing from despair to anger, the light shifts with her, as if reflecting every flicker of turmoil inside her heart.

His breath catches as the truth begins to piece itself together. The shard is tied to her emotions. It has to be. It isn't just reacting to her magic or the curse—it's responding to her.

The connection between them is deeper, more intrinsic. It dims when she's afraid, when the curse tightens its grip, but when she believes—when she fights back—it shines brighter than ever. Almost as if it's feeding off her strength, her will to keep going. But more than that… it feels as if the shard is mirroring her.

Reflecting not just her emotions, but her very state of being.

He swallows hard, his gaze fixed on the shard's faint, stubborn glow. This isn't just some broken relic. It's a part of something greater—something powerful. And somehow, it's connected to Brynn. It pulses with her anger, trembles with her pain, and when she lets herself hope—when she dares to believe—the light flares, pushing back the darkness.

A thrill of realization shoots through Luca. Maybe… maybe the key isn't just in the magic. Maybe it's her. Maybe it isn't the shard that's broken—it's Brynn's belief in herself. If she can see what he sees, if she can believe in herself the way he does, maybe she can unlock the shard's true potential. Maybe ? —

Luca's grip tightens around the shard. No, it's more than that. It isn't just about Brynn believing in herself—it's about what she feels.

He thinks back to that fleeting moment when the light's surged, bright and pure, washing away the shadows. The moment Brynn has decided to leave for Eldergrove. When Brynn has let down her walls and let herself feel something beyond pain and rage. When she has looked at him and there's been something… more. A connection, powerful and undeniable, as if the shard's drawing its strength not just from her emotions, but from the bond between them.

Luca's pulse hammers in his ears. That's it. The shard is more than just a magical artifact—it's tied to her heart. It's a reflection of Brynn's deepest self, her emotions, her courage, and her pain.

And if he can reach her—if he can help her see that she isn't beyond saving—then maybe the shard will respond.

"Brynn," he says quietly, breaking the silence. "We need to talk."

She doesn't slow, doesn't turn. "I'm not in the mood for talking."

"Too bad." He quickens his pace until he's walking beside her. She shoots him a sharp look, eyes flashing with annoyance, but he keeps his gaze steady. "This shard—it's reacting to you, Brynn. It's not broken. You're blocking it."

Her expression tightens. "What are you talking about?"

"Your emotions. Your fear. Your—your guilt." He holds up the shard, his voice rising with frustration. "Every time you lose hope, it dims. Every time you give in to the curse, it's like the light just?—"

"Stop it." She turns away sharply, shoulders rigid. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, I do!" He grabs her arm, pulling her to a stop. "You think you're beyond saving? You think this shard is useless? You're the one who's holding it back."

Her eyes blaze, her form flickering—half beast, half woman. "Let go."

"No." He holds his ground, gripping the shard tightly. "I'm not letting go until you listen."

"Luca—"

"You think I'm wrong?" he demands. "Prove it. Use it—really use it—and see what happens."

For a heartbeat, she stares at him, eyes wide and wild, fury and anguish warring in her gaze. Then, slowly, her expression hardens. She wrenches her arm free, stepping back, her jaw clenched. "You don't know what you're asking," she whispers. "If I lose control?—"

"You won't," he says softly.

Her breath catches, something like pain flashing across her face. For a moment, Luca thinks she's going to turn away again, to shut him out like she always does. But then she draws in a sharp breath, her gaze dropping to the shard in his hand.

"Fine," she mutters, her voice low and rough. "You want me to try? I'll show you how wrong you are."

Luca barely has time to react, a retort caught on the tip of his tongue, when the ground beneath their feet shudders. He staggers, eyes widening as a deep, reverberating groan echoes through the forest. The very air seems to thicken, charged with an unnatural energy. The trees around them shift, their twisted branches creaking and stretching like skeletal hands reaching for them.

"Brynn?" His voice wavers as a sharp, splintering crack splits the air.

The earth trembles violently as dark, sinewy vines erupt from the ground, bursting through the dirt in a twisted frenzy. They coil and writhe, thick and black, weaving around their feet and shooting toward Brynn like a swarm of serpents drawn to prey.

"What the—?" Luca stumbles back, heart racing as he draws his knife, slashing at the nearest tendrils.

But more take their place, surging up from the soil in a relentless wave. The vines twist around Brynn's legs, her arms—everywhere they touch, they tighten, constricting, binding.

She lets out a choked gasp, her eyes wide with shock. She struggles against the vines, but it's as if the very earth itself is reacting to her presence, responding to some invisible command. The darkness swirls around her, thick and cloying, and Luca's heart twists.

This isn't random. It feels targeted, focused.

The way the forest has changed it's like it senses something shifting in Brynn. As if her resolve to fight back—to push against the curse—has triggered some dormant trap lying in wait for her.

"Luca!" Her voice is a desperate cry, snapping him back into motion.

He lunges forward, slashing at the vines that coil around her wrists. But they're relentless, more of them bursting up from the ground. It's as if the entire forest is alive, responding to Brynn's pain, her fear, her fight.

The harder she struggles, the more vicious the attack becomes.

"No!" Luca shouts, slashing wildly, panic clawing at his chest. It's like trying to cut through sinew—and each vine he severs seems to split into two more, thicker and stronger. "Just hold on!"

But Brynn's gasping, the vines wrapping tighter, pulling her to her knees. Her eyes flash gold, the Beast's snarl breaking free as her form twists, claws sprouting from her fingers. "I—can't—stop?—"

"Don't give up," Luca pleads, his voice breaking. "Please, just?—"

"Get back!" she roars.

Luca's world explodes in a flash of darkness.

The air itself seems to shatter. A wave of raw power erupts from Brynn, knocking him back. He hits the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. For a heartbeat, he can see nothing—nothing but shadows and the gleam of sharp, deadly teeth.

A growl rumbles through the clearing, low and dangerous, rippling the very ground beneath them.

But it isn't the Beast he fears.

It's the way the forest seems to recoil, then lunge—like a predator reacting to its prey's last desperate struggle. The vines around Brynn surge, thickening, writhing, twisting higher around her body, wrapping around her waist, her chest, her throat.

They're choking her, dragging her down, burying her alive.

Luca's blood runs cold. Whoever is behind this… they want her to give in. They want to suffocate her fight, to drown her in darkness.

"Brynn, don't let it win!" Luca shouts, scrambling to his feet. He can barely see her through the thick mass of vines, her body pinned and trembling. The light of the shard, dull and lifeless, lies half-buried in the dirt. "Please, fight it!"

The vines are relentless, squeezing tighter, wrapping around her throat, forcing her head back. The Beast roars, thrashing, but it's weaker now, the flicker of gold in Brynn's eyes fading.

She's losing.

Being crushed.

"Brynn!" Desperation flares through him. If the curse takes her now, if the darkness swallows her completely?—

No. No .

Before he can think, Luca dives forward, his hand closing around the shard. A faint pulse of warmth meets his touch—so faint he almost misses it. But it's there. The shard isn't dead. It's… waiting. Waiting for something—someone—to ignite it.

"Come on," he rasps, his gaze locked on Brynn. "Come on, don't give up. Don't leave me."

Without another thought, he presses the shard against her chest.

"Fight it," he whispers fiercely. "Please, Brynn. Fight it."

The moment the shard touches her skin, it flares to life.

Light explodes from it—bright and golden, washing over them in a wave of warmth. The vines recoil, hissing as if burned, and Brynn gasps, her body arching as the light pulses through her.

"Luca, I—" Her voice breaks, caught between the snarl of the Beast and something achingly soft and human.

The light surges around her, pushing back the darkness that coils under her skin, and for a heartbeat, her form flickers—monstrous claws melting back into delicate fingers, the heavy, fur-covered shoulders slimming into the graceful curve of a woman's frame.

Luca's breath catches in his throat, his heart hammering as the curse seems to shrink away, leaving a glimpse of the woman hidden beneath.

The woman she'd once been.

Dark hair tumbles down her back in loose, unruly waves, catching the light of the shard and gleaming with hints of deep chestnut. Brynn's eyes—no longer glowing with that feral, golden fire—are a striking, vivid green, wide and wild, fringed with thick lashes. Her face, framed by that cascade of midnight waves, is sharp and strong, every line etched with a strength that makes his heart squeeze painfully.

But there's something else there too, something softer—a beauty that takes his breath away, that shines through even in her pain and fear. High cheekbones, a stubbornly set jaw, and lips that tremble ever so slightly as she fights against the curse's pull.

For a fleeting moment, he sees her as she might have been before all this—unbroken, unburdened by the weight of darkness that clings to her like a second skin.

And she's stunning.

The realization hits him hard, a sharp ache in his chest. This is the real Brynn—the woman who's been buried for so long beneath the monstrous form of the Beast. The woman who still fights, still claws her way back every time the curse tries to drown her.

The woman he's sensed, somehow, even when he hasn't been able to see her.

"Brynn…" Her name slips from his lips, barely more than a whisper, caught between wonder and disbelief.

But then her form shudders, the curse snapping back with brutal force. Her shoulders hunch, sharp claws erupting from her fingers once more, fur rippling along her arms as a guttural snarl tears from her throat. The Beast surges forward, its rage and fury crashing against the fragile light, and the glimpse of the woman—the real Brynn—begins to blur, swallowed by the darkness.

"No," Luca breathes, heart twisting painfully. "No, don't—don't go."

The light around her pulses, wavering, and for a terrible moment, he thinks he's lost her completely. The Beast's snarl deepens, claws lengthening, fur sprouting along her shoulders. But then her gaze—those vivid, brilliant green eyes—snaps back to his, and he sees it: a fierce, unrelenting will, burning through the haze of darkness.

The woman within is still fighting, still clawing her way to the surface, refusing to let the curse take her completely.

"Brynn," he whispers, the single word filled with hope and desperation.

The shadows tremble, the Beast's form wavering as if caught in a battle with itself.

And then, with a flash of blinding light, the darkness shatters.

The vines that bind her shriek and dissolve into ash, the forest recoiling as if burned by the sudden surge of power. The light around Brynn flares brilliantly, washing over them in a wave of golden warmth, and Luca's breath catches as the Beast's monstrous form steadies.

But doesn't retreat.

Her claws remain sharp, fur bristling along her arms, and her hunched, beastly shoulders still ripple with muscle and power. The shadowed form of the creature stands before him—terrifying and wild—but when he looks into her eyes, her eyes, he knows.

"Brynn!" He pulls her close, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. For a long moment, they just cling to each other, neither of them speaking. He can feel her pulse racing beneath his fingertips, feel the faint tremor in her limbs.

"I—I almost—" Her voice is a shaky whisper, and he can hear the terror in it—the fear of what she almost becomes. His chest constricts painfully.

"But you didn't," he murmurs fiercely. "You fought it. You won." He pulls back just enough to cup her face, his gaze intense. "And you're going to keep winning. Because you're stronger than this, Brynn. You're stronger than you think."

She stares at him, wide-eyed, the green of her eyes shimmering in the half light, and something fragile and powerful and real flickers between them.

For a heartbeat, Luca is sure she's going to pull away, to retreat behind those walls of pain and fear again, to shut him out like she always does.

But then, slowly—tentatively—she leans in.

Her massive frame trembles, muscles quivering beneath the thick fur. Every movement is cautious, as if she fears shattering the delicate moment between them. He holds his breath, pulse stuttering as she hesitates, her gaze flickering over his face.

And then, with a low, unsteady exhale, she bows her head, letting the weight of her forehead rest gently against his.

Warmth spreads through him, sweet and beautiful. The world narrows to just the two of them—the feel of her breath mingling with his, the roughness of her fur against his skin, the way the edges of her claws brush his arms, featherlight and trembling. He can see every minute detail up close—the sharp angles of her beast's face, the way the fur softens at her brow, the vivid, raw emotion flickering in her eyes.

But more than that, he can feel her. Beneath the fear and anger, beneath the crushing guilt and sorrow, there's a fragility—a desperate, trembling hope that makes his ribs tighten painfully.

"I see you, Brynn," he whispers, the words barely more than a breath. He tilts his head slightly, pressing his brow more firmly to hers, letting her feel the truth in his touch, the fierce promise in every word. "I see you."

Her breath catches, a soft, strangled sound that seems to come from deep within her chest. She stays still, eyes closed, her massive shoulders hunched, as if she's bracing herself against a blow.

Luca feels it—the moment she lets go. The moment she stops holding herself so rigid, stops fighting against everything she feels, and simply… breathes.

Just for a second.

Just for him.

It's small. So small he almost misses it. But it's there—the tiniest shift, the faintest loosening of the tension in her shoulders. She leans into him, just a little, the weight of her forehead resting more fully against his, and he feels her trust.

She's still shaking, still caught between the Beast and the woman, still so scared. But she isn't pulling away. She isn't running. She's choosing to stay, choosing to be here with him, choosing to let herself believe.

Just a little.

Just enough.

The realization sends a rush of warmth through him, sweet and overwhelming. He tightens his grip on her arm, his fingers brushing her coarse coat. This isn't a victory. Not yet.

But it's the first step, the first time she lets herself hope.

And it's beautiful.

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