The night ended.
Eventually.
Nobody was sure when they had actually fallen asleep.
Or if they had slept at all.
The camp looked exhausted.
Candidates rose from their bedrolls with dark circles beneath their eyes.
Even the soldiers seemed more alert than usual.
The Dusk Crawlers had vanished.
But the memory remained.
Like a wound.
Fresh.
Uncomfortable.
Unanswered.
Nobody understood why they had retreated.
And nobody seemed eager to discuss it.
The march resumed before sunrise.
Gray clouds hung low overhead.
The road wound deeper into the northern lands.
The mountains now dominated everything.
They no longer sat upon the horizon.
They towered above it.
Massive walls of stone stretching into the sky.
The farther north they traveled, the fewer signs of life appeared.
No villages.
No farms.
No travelers.
Nothing.
Only the road.
Always the road.
Dak yawned loudly.
"I've decided something."
Nobody responded.
He continued anyway.
"If we survive this, I'm opening a bakery."
Matthew blinked.
"A bakery?"
"Yes."
"No monsters."
"No ancient ruins."
"No soldiers."
"Just bread."
Ozias nodded.
"That's the smartest thing you've said since we met."
Dak looked proud.
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
For the first time that morning, a few laughs appeared.
Brief.
Fragile.
But real.
The tension eased slightly.
Only slightly.
Hours passed.
The weather grew colder.
The road climbed steadily upward.
The air felt thinner.
Sharper.
Every breath carried the scent of stone.
At midday they reached the highest point yet.
And everyone stopped.
Not because of an order.
Because of what lay ahead.
A valley.
Enormous.
Ancient.
Stretching beyond sight.
The road descended into it like a scar cut across the world.
Even the soldiers became quiet.
Dak stared.
"What happened here?"
Nobody answered.
Because nobody knew.
The valley looked wrong.
Not natural.
The cliffs on both sides appeared broken.
Shattered.
As if something unimaginably powerful had split the land apart.
Then Zeven felt it.
The pressure.
Stronger than ever.
Nexis.
Everywhere.
Flowing beneath the valley.
Through the stone.
Through the wind.
Through the earth itself.
The invisible currents felt denser here.
Older.
Almost alive.
A headache stabbed behind his eyes.
For a split second...
Fire.
A battlefield.
Broken banners.
A mountain collapsing.
Then it vanished.
Zeven nearly stumbled.
"Hey."
Matthew grabbed his shoulder.
"You alright?"
"Yeah."
The answer came too quickly.
Matthew frowned.
But let it go.
The descent began.
The valley swallowed them.
The cliffs blocked most of the sunlight.
Shadows stretched across the road.
The atmosphere became oppressive.
Heavy.
Ancient.
Watching.
Near sunset they found something.
Or rather...
The road found it.
A monument.
Standing directly beside the path.
Black stone.
Nearly fifteen meters tall.
Covered in weathered carvings.
The candidates gathered around it.
Curious.
Nervous.
Several soldiers immediately moved them back.
"Keep walking."
Nobody moved.
One candidate pointed.
"What does it say?"
The soldiers exchanged glances.
Then an older veteran finally answered.
His voice sounded unusually serious.
"It marks the boundary."
The crowd fell silent.
"The boundary of what?"
The veteran stared north.
For several long seconds.
Then he spoke.
"The safe lands."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Dak laughed nervously.
"That's a joke, right?"
Nobody answered.
The veteran continued walking.
The soldiers followed.
And suddenly nobody wanted to remain near the monument.
That night camp was established earlier than usual.
The soldiers doubled the guard rotations.
Nobody explained why.
Nobody needed to.
The monument had already done that.
As darkness settled across the valley, Zeven sat alone near the edge of camp.
The necklace rested beneath his uniform.
Cold once more.
Silent.
Normal.
Yet he couldn't stop thinking about it.
The visions.
The warmth.
The Dusk Crawlers.
None of it made sense.
Far in the distance...
Beyond the camp.
Beyond the valley.
A faint structure stood against the moonlit horizon.
Barely visible.
A thin line stretching between two cliffs.
Ancient.
Massive.
Impossible.
Zeven narrowed his eyes.
For a moment he thought he imagined it.
Then lightning flashed far away.
And the silhouette became visible.
A bridge.
An enormous bridge.
Stretching across a bottomless abyss.
The sight lasted less than a second.
Then darkness returned.
But Zeven had already seen it.
And somehow...
A cold feeling settled inside his chest.
The Bridge of Death was no longer a story.
No longer a rumor.
It was real.
And it was waiting.
The next morning arrived beneath a sky of steel-gray clouds.
Nobody needed to be awakened.
Most of the candidates were already awake.
The sight of the distant bridge had spread through the camp during the night.
Whispers traveled faster than fire.
"The Bridge of Death."
The name passed from group to group.
Every retelling made it larger.
More terrifying.
More impossible.
By sunrise, half the candidates were staring north.
Trying to see it again.
Trying to convince themselves it wasn't real.
The march resumed.
The valley narrowed.
Towering cliffs rose on both sides.
The road wound through ancient stone like a scar carved into the world.
The farther they traveled...
The quieter everyone became.
Even Dak.
Which was beginning to worry people.
Hours later, the bridge appeared again.
This time everyone saw it.
No lightning required.
No tricks of the eye.
The clouds had parted.
And there it stood.
Far ahead.
Stretching between two colossal cliffs.
A thin black line against the sky.
Impossible in size.
Impossible in age.
Impossible in purpose.
Thousands of candidates slowed.
Some stopped entirely.
The soldiers immediately barked orders.
"Keep moving!"
Nobody wanted to.
The bridge seemed to pull at their attention.
Like something from a dream.
Or a nightmare.
Dak stared.
"No."
Nobody answered.
"No."
Still silence.
"No sane person built that."
Matthew nodded.
"For once, I agree."
The bridge grew larger with every passing hour.
And with every hour...
It became more unsettling.
The structure possessed no visible supports.
No chains.
No pillars.
Nothing.
It simply existed.
Suspended above an abyss so vast that the bottom couldn't be seen.
Even from kilometers away.
Around midday, Dak finally asked the question everyone was thinking.
"Why?"
The veteran walking nearby glanced at him.
"Why what?"
"Why build a bridge there?"
The veteran remained silent for several seconds.
Then he answered.
"Nobody built it."
Dak blinked.
"What?"
"The bridge is older than the Institution."
Silence.
"Older than Varkas."
More silence.
"Older than most recorded history."
Nobody liked that answer.
Not one bit.
Ozias frowned.
"Then who made it?"
The veteran shrugged.
"Nobody knows."
That answer was somehow worse.
The day continued.
The bridge continued growing.
By evening, it dominated the horizon.
The abyss beneath it became visible.
A wound in the earth.
Endless.
Bottomless.
Dark.
Several candidates refused to look at it.
Others couldn't stop.
As camp was established that night, Zeven found himself staring toward the bridge once more.
The necklace rested quietly beneath his uniform.
Silent.
Cold.
Yet something felt different.
The closer they came...
The stranger the Nexis currents became.
They twisted around the abyss.
Flowing toward it.
Around it.
Through it.
Like rivers avoiding a stone.
For a moment, Zeven focused.
Really focused.
The world blurred.
The currents sharpened.
And then...
A flash.
A bridge.
The same bridge.
But not ruined by time.
New.
Pristine.
Covered in symbols burning with pale light.
Thousands of figures crossing it.
Warriors.
Armies.
Banners.
Then...
Pain.
A sharp spike behind his eyes.
The vision shattered instantly.
Zeven staggered.
Nearly falling.
His breathing became uneven.
The image vanished.
Gone before he could understand it.
"Zeven?"
Matthew looked concerned.
"You okay?"
Zeven hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Just tired."
The lie came easier than expected.
That night nobody slept well.
The bridge loomed in the darkness.
Waiting.
Watching.
As if it had stood there forever.
As if it would stand there forever.
And for the first time since leaving Earth...
The candidates began understanding something.
The Institution wasn't trying to recruit them.
It was trying to filter them.
And the Bridge of Death was merely the next filter.
Somewhere ahead...
Failure waited.
And Nythara had never been known for mercy.