Chapter 4: The Hidden Path

Belinda stepped cautiously onto the damp earth outside her cottage, her heart pounding. The night air carried the crisp scent of pine and river mist, but beneath it, something else lingered, a feeling, an unspoken tension that curled around her like unseen fingers.

The hooded stranger turned without another word, their cloak billowing slightly as they strode toward the narrow village path. Their movements were deliberate, purposeful. Belinda hesitated only a moment before following, her instincts screaming at her to turn back, yet the pull in her chest only grew stronger.

The village was eerily silent, save for the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance. Their steps were muffled against the damp earth as they wove through the empty streets, past shuttered windows and slumbering houses. The stranger never looked back, never spoke.

Belinda clenched her fists, her unease growing.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The stranger didn't answer. Instead, they led her beyond the village, past the old well and the broken fence that marked the outskirts. The trees thickened, their gnarled branches twisting like skeletal fingers against the moonlight. The air here was heavier, charged with something ancient and unseen.

And then she saw it.

A narrow, overgrown path wound between the trees, nearly swallowed by the creeping vines and underbrush. It was a place she had never noticed before, though she had lived in Veywyn all her life. A place that should not exist.

The stranger finally stopped at the entrance, turning toward her. Beneath the hood, she caught the faintest glimpse of silver, his eyes, watching her closely.

"This path has been hidden for centuries," he said at last. "Only those who are meant to walk it can see it."

Belinda swallowed. "Meant?"

"You feel it, don't you?" His voice was smooth, unwavering. "The pull. The call of something lost."

Her breath hitched. She did feel it. The strange ache in her chest, the whisper in the night, the overwhelming sense that something was missing, something just out of reach.

"You are not who you think you are, Belinda Everhart," the stranger murmured. "Your past has been veiled, your memories stolen. But the truth waits for you, beyond this path."

A shiver ran down her spine. The air seemed to hum around her, the leaves rustling as if whispering secrets only she could hear.

She could turn back now. Go home, pretend none of this had ever happened.

Or she could step forward.

Belinda took a deep breath, clenched her fists, and walked into the unknown.