The crimson doorway continued trembling long after the disturbance appeared. Waves of red light spread through the fracture, illuminating countless shadows hidden within its depths. Every visible figure had turned toward the same location. The scout was watching. The giant's followers were watching. Even the beings too distant to distinguish clearly seemed focused on whatever was moving through the darkness.
Ayan felt the bridge pulsing faster than ever before. The sensation was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. Earlier, it had felt like a signal. Now it felt more like a conversation. Something was happening beyond the limits of his understanding, and somehow the bridge was involved.
The figure remained staring into the fracture.
Its expression had become grim.
"How much time do we have?" Lucien asked.
The question lingered in the air for several seconds.
Nobody seemed eager to answer it.
Eventually, the figure released a slow breath and shook its head. "I don't know."
That answer worried Ayan more than any estimate could have.
The figure had spent the last several hours explaining ancient wars, forgotten civilizations, and the collapse of reality itself. It always seemed to know something. Hearing uncertainty in its voice felt wrong.
The giant appeared equally troubled.
"It shouldn't be moving yet."
The figure nodded.
"No. It shouldn't."
The exchange immediately caught Ayan's attention.
There was that phrase again.
Shouldn't.
He had heard it several times already. The End shouldn't have accelerated. Genesis shouldn't have survived. Now this thing shouldn't be moving.
The pattern was becoming difficult to ignore.
Something was changing history.
The bridge reacted.
A sudden memory surfaced.
Ayan found himself standing inside a circular chamber constructed from silver crystal. Hundreds of people occupied observation platforms overlooking a massive projection suspended in the center of the room. The atmosphere felt tense, but not fearful. The people there looked like researchers discussing a difficult problem.
At the center of the projection appeared countless worlds connected by glowing pathways.
One pathway suddenly brightened.
The room became silent.
Then another brightened.
And another.
The researchers immediately began arguing.
Some looked excited.
Others looked alarmed.
A voice echoed through the chamber.
"The connections are increasing."
The memory shifted.
The projection expanded.
More pathways appeared.
Then thousands.
Then millions.
The atmosphere transformed from excitement into concern.
The vision shattered.
Reality returned.
Ayan frowned.
The memory felt different from the others.
Less emotional.
More informative.
"What did you see?" Aelira asked.
Ayan described the vision.
The figure listened quietly before nodding.
"That happened near the end."
Its gaze drifted toward the crimson doorway.
"We were searching for ways to strengthen reality."
The giant laughed bitterly.
"Instead, we weakened it."
The explanation confused Ayan.
"How?"
The figure remained silent for a moment.
Then it pointed toward the bridge beneath his skin.
"Connection."
The answer felt incomplete.
Apparently, the figure noticed.
"It sounds strange, but reality survives because things are separate. Worlds. Dimensions. Possibilities. Each exists within its own boundaries." Its expression hardened slightly. "The bridge was designed to remove those boundaries."
Ayan felt a chill run through him.
The bridge pulsed.
The realization settled heavily inside his chest.
The bridge connected worlds.
That part wasn't surprising.
The dangerous part was what came next.
If worlds were connected—
Then anything could travel between them.
The figure seemed to reach the same conclusion.
"At first, the bridge transformed civilizations."
Its voice carried a trace of nostalgia.
"Knowledge spread faster than ever before. Resources became limitless. Entire species worked together."
The king finally spoke.
"And then something else discovered the roads."
Silence followed.
Nobody interrupted.
Because nobody needed clarification.
The bridge reacted violently.
Another memory surfaced.
Ayan saw countless pathways stretching through darkness. They looked beautiful. Endless streams of silver light connecting reality together.
Then one pathway darkened.
A second later, another followed.
The darkness spread slowly.
Patiently.
Like ink flowing through water.
The memory ended.
Ayan inhaled sharply.
The bridge continued pulsing.
The figure looked toward him.
"You understand now."
It wasn't a question.
Ayan nodded slowly.
The roads hadn't merely connected civilizations.
They had created a path.
The realization made his stomach tighten.
Far beyond the silver fracture, the king remained standing beneath the great tower. Silver light flowed around him while the impossible city watched in silence. Ayan had noticed something recently. The ancient ruler spent less time arguing with the giant now.
That change felt significant.
Earlier, their conversations had been filled with tension.
Now they seemed united by a larger problem.
The giant appeared to notice it too.
His gaze shifted toward the king.
"We spent centuries blaming each other."
The statement echoed across both worlds.
The king smiled faintly.
"A waste of time."
The giant laughed.
This time, the sound carried genuine amusement.
"Probably."
Ayan stared.
The exchange felt strangely human.
For beings who had witnessed the fall of civilizations, their argument suddenly seemed smaller than expected.
The figure looked away.
"History always looks different when the next disaster arrives."
Nobody argued.
Because nobody could.
The bridge pulsed again.
Then something changed.
The sensation froze Ayan completely.
Every memory.
Every emotion.
Every fragment.
Stopped.
For the first time since awakening, the bridge became completely silent.
The sudden absence felt wrong.
Terribly wrong.
Ayan immediately noticed.
So did the figure.
Its expression changed instantly.
"What happened?"
Ayan swallowed.
"I can't feel it."
The valley became silent.
Lucien frowned.
"The bridge?"
Ayan nodded.
The bridge wasn't pulsing anymore.
It wasn't reacting.
It wasn't communicating.
Nothing.
The complete silence felt unnatural.
Like a heartbeat suddenly stopping.
The figure looked toward the doorway.
Its face had gone pale.
The giant followed its gaze.
Then his expression darkened.
Ayan turned toward the crimson fracture.
At first, he didn't understand what they were seeing.
Everything appeared normal.
The shadows remained where they had always been.
The crimson light still filled the doorway.
Nothing seemed different.
Then he noticed it.
The shadows had moved.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The atmosphere surrounding them had changed.
The scout was no longer watching the darkness.
Neither were the distant silhouettes.
Every shadow visible within the fracture had lowered its head.
The gesture reminded Ayan of soldiers standing before a ruler.
A cold feeling settled in his chest.
Because suddenly he understood.
Whatever had been approaching—
Had arrived.
The figure closed its eyes briefly.
When it finally spoke, its voice sounded tired.
"That's impossible."
The giant didn't answer.
The king didn't answer.
Nobody did.
Because deep within the crimson doorway, beyond every shadow and beyond every visible shape, something began walking toward the light.
And for the first time since the beginning of this nightmare—
The bridge was too afraid to remember.