LightReader

Chapter 8 - THE BEAST’S CABIN

The forest was different once she followed him.

Quieter. Denser. The trees leaned in, thick with moss and shadow, as if trying to eavesdrop on every breath she took. No path. No moonlight. Just Silas moving ahead, effortless through a maze only he knew.

Evelyn stumbled once, twice. Sharp twigs nicked her bare feet. But she said nothing. Pride was the only thing she had left that didn't bleed.

"Watch the roots," he said suddenly, without looking back.

"I noticed," she muttered, brushing dirt from her dress.

A beat of silence.

Then, unexpectedly—he chuckled.

It was a deep, rough sound. Foreign to her ears, like the sound of stone remembering it used to be water.

"Most cry by now," he said. "Or beg. Or curse me."

Evelyn stepped faster to close the distance between them. "Would it make a difference?"

He glanced at her over his shoulder.

"No."

---

The trees finally broke into a clearing, and there it was.

A cabin.

Old, crooked, swallowed in ivy and shadow, but standing strong. The windows glowed faintly with candlelight. Smoke curled from the chimney. It looked like something out of a nightmare that hadn't finished dreaming.

"This is where you live?" she asked, breath fogging in the cold air.

"This is where I wait," he said.

He opened the door, and warmth spilled out—woodsmoke, herbs, and something that smelled faintly of cedar and leather. She hesitated on the threshold.

"Will I die if I enter?" she asked, only half joking.

Silas turned to her, eyes unreadable. "Only if you leave."

---

Inside, the cabin was surprisingly… human.

Not civilized, but lived-in.

A fire cracked in the hearth. A battered wooden table sat beside hand-carved chairs. Books lined uneven shelves. Weapons hung on the walls—not gleaming trophies, but old tools, rusted and worn.

The strangest part?

A painting hung above the fireplace.

A woman. Pale, dark-haired, smiling. Her eyes… looked like Evelyn's.

She froze.

"Who is that?" she asked, heart skipping.

Silas's jaw tensed. His voice dropped to a whisper.

> "The last one they sent me."

---

She turned toward him.

"You loved her?"

He didn't answer.

Didn't need to.

The silence spoke louder than a confession.

"But she didn't survive, did she?" Evelyn said softly.

Silas stepped forward, close enough that she could see the flicker of firelight in his silver eyes.

"No one survives Black Hollow," he said. "Not unless the curse is broken."

"And how do we break it?"

His gaze burned into hers.

> "We don't."

---

Evelyn sat near the fire that night, sleepless and burning with a thousand questions she couldn't voice. The beast moved around her silently, his heavy presence a strange comfort.

He didn't chain her.

Didn't threaten her.

But she knew she was still a prisoner—just of a different kind.

As the flames danced and the forest outside breathed its ancient hunger, Evelyn whispered a truth she hadn't dared say aloud:

> "I'm not afraid of him anymore."

But in the shadows, Silas watched her…

And knew he should be.

---

Shall we continue with Chapter Nine: The Curse of Black Hollow, where the origin of the beast is finally revealed?

Or would you like a flashback chapter—from the point of view of the woman in the painting?

Both lead deeper into the myth… and the rising passion.

More Chapters