"Watch your step, Ember. If you slip, you'll die of a heart attack before you even hit the bottom of the gorge. Silver lining, I suppose—saves you the mess of the impact."
Mira's voice was as dry as the parched earth of Jotunheim's interior. She glanced back at Tari, who was currently white-knuckling the vine-woven rails of the bridge as if they were the only things keeping the planet from spinning out of orbit. Tari's heart didn't just skip a beat; it performed a frantic, percussion-heavy solo against her ribs.
"Stop...Saying...Scary things,"
Tari pleaded, her voice trembling in rhythm with the bridge. " And, I'm never getting used to that name...Whoa!" Tari shrieked. She almost slipped.
Underneath her boots, the structure groaned—a deep, rhythmic creak that sounded suspiciously like a giant waking from a nap.
The team had opted for the 'Path of Silent Screams,' a route less frequented by the island's more carnivorous residents, leading toward the jagged maw of Gorgon's Cove. Specifically, they were crossing The Fall. It was less of a geographical feature and more of a geographical threat: a chasm so wide and deep that the bottom was a mere myth whispered by the mist.
Spanning this void was a bridge that defied every law of modern engineering. It was a macabre masterpiece constructed from Snake-vine—a sentient, obsidian-colored flora—and the massive, bleached skeletal remains of a creature that must have been the size of a cathedral. The ribs of the beast curved upward to form the arches, while the vertebrae served as the uneven cobblestones of this suicidal walkway.
Aside from the rhythmic clack-thud of their boots and the distant, mocking caw of Hell-crows, the area was suffocated by a silence so heavy it felt like pressure in the ears.
"Is this part of the grand tour surprise, Mira? Because I'm losing it. My balance is a mess at this point,"
Tari whimpered. As if on cue, a massive bone under her left foot shifted with a sickening snap-crunch.
Mira didn't offer a hand. Instead, she turned around and stamped her heel hard against the bridge's framework. The entire structure shrieked in protest, swaying over the abyss. Tari nearly leaped out of her skin, her knees buckling.
"Relax, Ember. This bridge is sturdier than your resolve,"
Mira assured her with a wicked glint in her eyes. "It's built from Amphidragon vertebrae and self-knitting Snake-vines. It's a biological machine. If a piece breaks, the vine regrows the marrow. It's self-sustaining. It's art."
"Snake-vines?"
Tari gasped, her eyes wide as she watched a stray tendril of the black vine pulse like a vein. "You mean the predatory plants that wrap around your torso and liquefy your internal organs for a light afternoon snack? Which homicidal architect thought this was a good idea? Oh, God..."
Tari's rambling cut short as they approached a heap of matted feathers and gore lying across the path. It was the carcass of a winged monstrosity, its chest cavity hollowed out with surgical, predatory precision.
"That's a Harpy, missy," a scout grunted, stepping over the mangled remains without breaking stride. "Don't bother mourning it. They nest in the jagged crags of the gorge. They're the only things on this island more territorial than the Boss. They'll attack a mountain if it looks at them wrong, even if it kills 'em."
Tari retched, the copper scent of old blood hitting the back of her throat. She instinctively drifted toward the center of the bridge.
"Stay away from the edges, Ember,"
Mira warned, her tone shifting into something uncharacteristically somber. "I once lost a pet dragon over the side. It slipped on a patch of moss. It fell so far and so fast that I never even heard the thud. Just... silence ,and mist . Cute little thing. Such a waste of scales."
Tari froze, her curiosity momentarily eclipsing her terror.
"A pet dragon? You... you had the emotional capacity to keep a pet dragon?"
"Of course she didn't," Kenna interrupted from the front of the line. She was moving with a forced, robust energy, though the slight strain in her shoulders betrayed the weight of their mission. "Mira's dragon was the ugliest mistake of nature I've ever laid eyes on. It was the size of a mangy puppy, had the head of a Komodo dragon, the body of a mountain goat, claws like knives ,and bat wings that looked like wet umbrellas. And yes, it breathed fire—mostly when it was trying to cough up a hairball."
Mira let out a sharp, indignant huff but didn't deny it.
"Wait,"
Tari said, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the surroundings. "So Mira had a Baphomet for a pet? That explains so much about your personality."
Kenna chuckled, the sound echoing off the gorge walls. "Baphomet? What's that supposed to mean?. You see, Tari, our Mira is a sweetie with a heart of pure, unrefined flint. Colder than a winter gale on the peaks."
"Colder than the mountain wind?" Tari ventured, leaning into the banter.
"Way colder," Kenna said, dropping her voice for dramatic effect. "Here's the twist: the little beast's parents had made a barbecue out of Mira's favorite aunt. A fresh human breakfast, served charred. Mira swore revenge. She found the runt of the litter, pampered it for a week. Mira doesn't view pampering the way we do actually. She drove nails into the beasts hide , then dragged it to this very edge. She snapped its wings like dry kindling and shoved it off the lines, letting it whistle all the way down. Savage revenge for a twelve-year-old, wouldn't you say?"
Tari let out a sudden, sharp laugh. It was a dark, jagged sound that surprised even her. The absurdity of the island was starting to seep into her bones, twisting her sense of what was tragic and what was hilarious.
"Thanks for the trip down memory lane, Val" Mira said, her voice dropping into a flat, emotionless drone. "It was a Devil-Gryphon, by the way. Accuracy matters when you're recounting my trauma."
"I was trying to lighten the mood, Mira! Don't give me that 'I'm-going-to-stab-you-in-your-sleep' look," Kenna joked, reaching back to pull Mira into a one-armed, suffocatingly tight hug. "I just made your tragedy sound cinematic."
"I'm so sorry Mira. But what exactly is a Devil-Gryphon?" Tari asked, looking between the two. "Another Amphidragon-sized nightmare?"
"They're Chimeras,"
Mira explained, shaking off Kenna's hug and smoothing her vest. Her eyes turned toward the mist. "Fusion beasts created by the island's twisted biology . Rare, migratory. They usually only return in small flocks during the winter thaw. They aren't typically aggressive toward humans; they prefer smaller prey. I still don't know why they picked Aunt Mary that day. Perhaps she used too much lavender perfume."
Mira ground her teeth, a flicker of genuine, ancient rage sparking in her eyes. Kenna noticed and tapped her gently on the shoulder.
"Easy now, luv. You'll get wrinkles before you're twenty one. Don't beat yourself up over the past. What's happened has been digested and turned into fertilizer long ago."
Mira exhaled a long, shaky breath and suddenly beamed—a smile so bright and fake it was terrifying.
"Of course, Boss. Like a needle through water. I'd be happy to clip every Gryphon wing in existence while roasting marshmallows over their burning nests."
Tari gulped. Note to self: Never, ever touch Mira's marshmallows.
"I think the island has officially twisted my sense of humor, Mistress Kenna,"
Tari said, trying to shake off the mental image of Mira's revenge.
"Mistress? That's new," Kenna said, arching an eyebrow. "Is that a promotion or a demotion?"
"I just thought you deserved more respect than I've been giving you," Tari replied shyly.
Kenna let out a laugh so booming it seemed to push back the fog.
"Don't tell me Mira put you up to this? That little mischief-maker is trying to turn my camp into a formal court."
Mira raised her hands in mock innocence.
"I'm just a humble soldier, Boss. I have no idea what the civilian is talking about."
"Whether you came up with it or not, Tari, it doesn't suit you,"
Kenna said, her expression softening into a smirk. "Where's the cheeky, stubborn girl who disagrees at everything and curses the heavens ? Drop the 'Mistress' immediately. It sounds like a title for someone who owns a whip and a dungeon. Call me Valkyrie, or Val, or just Kenna. Choose your poison; they all kill you the same way."
Tari blushed, nodding in embarrassment, while Mira turned away to hide a silent, mocking tremor of laughter.
"Ah! Finally. We're across," Kenna sighed.
The transition was subtle. The air grew colder, and the bridge finally met solid—or solid-ish—ground. Standing at the threshold was a signpost that looked like it had been designed by a manic taxidermist. It was fashioned from a giant creature's femur and weathered cedar, with an arrow painted in dark, oxidized blood pointing toward the mist.
The sign read: TROLL'S GATEWAY.
"Troll's Gateway?"
Tari whispered to herself. The path ahead was a narrow shelf of rock, vanishing into a fog so thick it felt like walking into a wall of wet wool. She began to wonder if the legends of trolls were as literal as the dragons.
"Sound the Ukuleh, Agnes. Let them know the circus has arrived,"
Kenna commanded.
" Yes boss!"
A scout near the front, a woman built like an oak tree with intricate dark markings tattooed across her cheeks, reached for a massive, tusk-like horn strapped to her back. The instrument was carved with weeping figures and bound in silver wire.
Agnes took a deep breath, her chest expanding to an impossible size, and blew.
The sound wasn't a note; it was a physical force. A low, vibrating bellow that shook the very stones beneath their feet. Above them, the Hell-crows shrieked in terror, taking flight in a chaotic black cloud that blotted out the dim light.
"Who are we alerting, Val?" Tari asked, her hands over her ears.
"Brace yourself, Tari,"
Kenna said, her eyes flashing with a mix of pride and grim anticipation. "You're about to meet the elite lunatics of this rock. The Merlin Crew."
"The Merlin... what now?" Tari started to ask, but her words were cut short by a sound coming from the mist ahead—a rhythmic, metallic clanking that sounded like a giant walking in iron boots.