They called it the Bridge Without End.
From the cliffs of Xarion's western border, Allen saw it stretching into the horizon a silver spine suspended over nothing. No arches. No pillars. No cables. Just a ribbon of stone that shimmered faintly in the mist, disappearing into clouds that seemed too far away to touch.
The wind here was different colder, sharper, and carrying a low hum that vibrated in Allen's ribs. Ravik stood beside him, arms folded, studying the path ahead as if measuring every inch.
"No way across without taking the trial," he said. "The bridge knows when you're trying to cheat it. Try to fly, try to shadowstep past it… you fall."
Allen eyed the abyss below. It wasn't just empty space it swallowed light, a void so deep it looked like the world had been cut in half.
"What kind of trial?" Allen asked.
Ravik's gaze didn't leave the bridge. "The kind that kills most who take it. The bridge shifts for each traveler what you see won't be what I see. If you hesitate, it takes you."
They stepped forward, boots meeting the first slab of pale stone. It was smooth, warm despite the icy wind. The moment Allen set foot on it, the sound of the world dulled. No more wind. No more distant gulls. Just his breathing, too loud in his ears.
The path narrowed almost immediately, and the mist thickened. Ravik was still beside him, but every time Allen blinked, Ravik's figure seemed… farther away, like the bridge was stretching between them.
Then came the first shift.
The stones ahead fell away in a silent collapse, leaving only a series of narrow planks swaying over the void. The drop below seemed closer now, the darkness pulsing faintly as if alive. Allen's heartbeat quickened.
Somewhere ahead, a shape moved a man, crawling along one of the planks. His hands were bleeding, his breathing ragged. He reached out to Allen as they approached.
"Please… help me…"
Allen hesitated. The planks trembled under his weight. The man's eyes were wide with panic, but his grip on the plank was failing.
Ravik's voice cut through the mist, calm and distant: "Leave him. The bridge isn't real."
Allen's jaw tightened. His mind screamed to move forward, to not break focus… but his hands acted before his thoughts caught up. He crouched, gripping the man's wrist. For a heartbeat, it felt solid human. Warm. Heavy.
Then the weight vanished. The man dissolved into a scattering of ash that drifted upward into the mist. The plank beneath Allen cracked. He lunged forward just as it gave way, catching the next one and pulling himself up, his pulse roaring in his ears.
Ravik was suddenly there, walking as if the path were steady ground. "You're lucky that wasn't the real test. The bridge likes to play with guilt."
Allen didn't answer. He kept moving.
The mist began to thin after what felt like hours. The planks became solid stone again, wide enough for them to walk side by side. In the distance, Allen saw the far gate two towering statues carved into robed sentinels, their faces hidden beneath hoods.
And beyond them… the first country Vharros.
Rolling hills. Villages tucked into valleys. Roads stretching into a horizon painted with faint smoke. It should have been beautiful. But Allen could see the scars even from here burned fields, broken walls, caravans moving in silence along the roads.
The bridge ended with a deep hum, the kind you feel more than hear. As they stepped onto solid earth, the world's sound returned the wind, the distant cries of crows, the murmur of people far below.
They walked down a winding path toward a small border town.
By the time they reached it, the sun was sinking. The tavern was still open, though half its tables were empty. The smell of stale beer and damp wood clung to the air. Ravik found them a corner table, and Allen kept his hood low.
At the far end of the room, a group of weary farmers argued in hushed voices over whether to flee farther inland or stay and guard what little they had left. Their hands trembled, but their voices held an edge of defiance.
One of them glanced at Allen, eyes narrowing as if trying to place his face. Allen looked away quickly, his heart beating harder than he liked.
Even here, in the shadow of ruin, there were people who refused to yield.
It struck him then maybe Ikki hadn't fought for glory or power. Maybe he'd fought for voices like theirs. For their stubborn will to endure.
Ravik drained the last of his drink and leaned back. "Tomorrow, we move deeper. The first Key isn't far from here."
Allen nodded, but his thoughts lingered on the bridge. Not the void, not the trial but the moment he had reached for the stranger's hand, even knowing it could be a trick.
The toy bird from his memory had floated without wings. Maybe some things simply refused to fall.