The final quarter-mile of the Blackwater suspension bridge was a grueling, agonizing march through a freezing, blinding wall of heavy grey fog.
The roaring, violent churn of the massive river four hundred feet below slowly began to muffle, deadened by the thick, encroaching stone of the northern cliffs. The sickening, nauseating lateral sway of the two-mile steel span finally began to stiffen, the immense physical tension transferring directly into the colossal, house-sized concrete anchor blocks buried deep within the bedrock ahead.
Ren's heavy combat boots struck the massive, interlocking steel expansion joints marking the absolute end of the bridge.
The acoustic shift was immediate. The hollow, groaning vibration of the suspended asphalt was instantly replaced by the dull, unyielding thud of solid, immovable earth. He stepped completely off the rusted Old World structure, leaving the abyss and the freezing black blood of the Trench-Crawlers entirely behind him.
