Chapter 96 Fuck These Woods
Bella
The castle is not what it seems. That’s what my instincts scream as the red-brick path thins beneath our feet, the trees peeling back just enough to give us a clear view of the towering structure ahead. Its spires cut cleanly into the sky, pale stone glowing softly in a way that feels intentional, curated, like it wants to be admired. The windows gleam and banners stir. It looks welcoming in the same way a predator looks still right before it strikes. Damien slows beside me, his presence solid, but I can feel the dragon under his skin tense, scales scraping restlessly against the inside of our thoughts.
“I don’t like it,” I murmur.
“Neither do I,” he replies quietly. “That usually means we’re right.”
Ashlyn hums cheerfully at my other side. “Well, if it tries to marry us, I’m stabbing something.”
That’s when the screaming starts from the castle. A shrill, rage-filled voice tears through the air, raw and unhinged, carrying on magic so sharp it makes my teeth ache.
“I WILL HAVE YOUR HEADS!”
The sound hits like a physical force, birds explode from the treeline in a frantic cloud of wings as the castle doors burst open and Red comes flying out of them. She doesn’t stumble. She doesn’t hesitate. She runs—cloak torn, boots pounding earth, blade slick and dark in her hand as soldiers pour out behind her in chaotic formation, armour dented, expressions somewhere between terror and fury. One of them is bleeding from the shoulder. Another has a hand clamped over his ear like something screamed directly into his skull. Behind them, something moves in the doorway. It is tall...twisted...too many shadows clinging where light should be.
“I WILL WEAR YOUR SKULLS AS A WARNING!” the voice howls again.
Red spots us, and her face flashes through disbelief, then relief.
“Good,” she snaps as she barrels toward us. “You’re alive. Now run if you like living!”
We don’t argue. We run. Branches whip past as we break off the path, plunging into the woods alongside the castle, the earth uneven beneath our boots as Damien keeps pace effortlessly at my side, one arm instinctively shielding me as shouts and snarls thunder behind us.
“But you said to go forward!” I shout over the chaos, lungs burning.
Red glances back mid-stride, eyes sharp. “We’re not going backward,” she fires back. “Just taking a detour to the side!”
That is not reassuring. The forest tightens around us, roots clawing up from the ground, branches snapping back against our shoulders as angry voices echo through the trees behind us—too many of them, layered and wrong, overlapping in shouts of anger.
Ashlyn laughs beside me. “Aw, Bel!” she calls, leaping over a fallen log with gleeful abandon. “This is just like how we met!”
“I remember,” I shout back.
“And look how well that worked out for us!”
Something crashes through the undergrowth behind us, heavy enough to shake the ground. One of the soldiers swears loudly and Damien growls under his breath, heat flaring around him as the dragon snarls for release. Red skids to a halt beside a thick stand of trees, slashing her blade downward in a sharp, decisive arc that cuts the air itself. The woods ripple, then part.
“Through here!” she orders.
We don’t question it. We plunge sideways into a narrow passage that shouldn’t exist, the castle vanishing from sight as the forest swallows sound and light alike. The screaming fades behind us, dissolving into frustrated, furious echoes that eventually… stop. Silence crashes down in its place.
We slow, gasping, hearts pounding, leaves settling around us like nothing happened at all.
Ashlyn bends over, hands on her knees, grinning breathlessly. “Wow. Okay. Ten out of ten. Would absolutely run for my life again.”
I turn to Red, adrenaline still buzzing through my veins. “What the actual fuck is going on?”
She wipes her blade on her cloak, unfazed. “We're making our way through the woods.”
“…Sure doesn't feel like it.”
Her mouth quirks. “Don't worry, we're almost through the worst of it.”
Damien exhales slowly, eyes flicking back toward where the castle should be—and isn’t. “What was that thing?”
Red meets his gaze, expression grim but satisfied. “It's kind of like justice. When you decide you don't want what this place shows you, it threatens to hold you here against your will” She glances at me. “Looks like you both chose wrong in the best possible way.”
I swallow, heart still hammering, and glance at the path ahead that is crooked and imperfect.
“Are we clear?” I ask.
Red nods once. “For now.”
Ashlyn straightens and slings an arm around my shoulders. “See? Told you forward was working.”
I look back at the trees one last time, at the place that tried to turn us into something easier, quieter, perfect.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Forward.”
We follow the crooked path together, the five of us moving in an uneasy line that feels more like instinct than direction. The trees don’t loom anymore, they simply exist, bent and ordinary and tired-looking, as though whatever intelligence once animated them has finally lost interest. Good. I’m done being interesting to this place. The path thins the farther we go, bricks breaking apart into scattered stones, then dirt, then nothing at all. One moment we’re still following it, the next it simply… ends, dissolving into grass and soft earth beneath our boots. No fanfare. No final test. Just an abrupt, anticlimactic stop. Ahead of us, in a small clearing bathed in real sunlight, sit our soldiers. They’re scattered across the grass in various states of collapse—some sitting, some sprawled flat on their backs staring at the sky, others leaning on elbows and each other. The moment they notice us, they scramble to their feet, eyes wide, disbelief flashing across their faces before relief slams into them hard enough to knock the breath out.
“My king!” one of them shouts, voice cracking. “We thought—we thought we lost you!”
Damien stops short; he straightens instinctively, king settling back into his bones as his people rush toward him, hands clapping his shoulders, voices overlapping in a mess of relief, awe, and gratitude.
“You disappeared,” someone says.
“The woods—”
“We couldn’t follow—”
“I know,” Damien says calmly, steady as stone. “You’re safe now.”
One of the soldiers clears his throat awkwardly and holds out a folded bundle of fabric.
“Ah,” he says. “Sir. We, uh… thought you might want these.”
I snort despite myself.
Damien exhales like a man who has just remembered he is, in fact, very naked, and takes the clothes without ceremony.
Ashlyn plops down in the grass beside me with a dramatic groan. “Wow. Okay. My head hurts.”
I just let my legs give out beneath me and lie back in the grass, staring up at the sky. “Fuck these woods,” I mutter.
Gilfred gives me a look as he sprawls in the sun, one that says he definitely agrees. I close my eyes and let the sun warm my face. We’re out. And if I never see another enchanted forest again, it’ll be far too soon.