The familiar forests gave way to a more rugged, mountainous terrain. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the road ended abruptly at the edge of a deep, rocky ravine. The old wooden bridge that once spanned the gap had collapsed, its splintered timbers scattered on the rocks far below.
Lyra dismounted, her boots crunching on loose gravel. She stood motionless, her eyes scanning the ruins of the bridge. Frustration flickered across her face, but it vanished quickly, replaced by cold calculation. A detour through the valley would cost them days, and the cliffs were too sheer to climb.
"This wasn't on the King's maps," she muttered, low and sharp.
Shawn and Elise joined her at the edge.
"Fresh collapse," Shawn said, surveying the jagged timbers. "Storm must've done it."
"We can't go around," Elise added, shaking her head at the treacherous slopes. "Not without losing half our time."
At her side, Rory edged forward, his small chest puffed with eagerness. "General, we can just climb down! I'll go first—I'm fast!"
Lyra's gaze snapped to him. "This is not a game, Rory," she said, her voice cutting like steel. Then, softer, seeing the flicker of disappointment: "Impulse will get you killed. Patience and a good plan will get you home."
Selene shivered in her saddle, hugging her cloak tighter. The air was cooling fast, shadows bleeding into the gorge. Vulnerability pressed in on all of them, and Lyra felt the weight of it most of all.
Then her eyes lit with sudden resolve. "We'll lay the sturdiest timbers across the narrowest points," she said, her tone turning decisive. "Not a full bridge—but platforms. Enough to get us across one by one."
Shawn gave a grim nod. "Risky, but possible."
Elise frowned. "The horses—"
"They'll cross last, with ropes," Lyra cut in. She turned to Rory. "Your task is to stay with Selene, keep her warm, and do exactly as I say."
Rory's jaw tightened, but he nodded.
For two hours, they worked. Muscles strained, ropes stretched, and sweat slicked their palms despite the cold. Piece by piece, they forged a narrow, perilous path suspended over the abyss. By the time the final timber was in place, the last light of day was fading into stars.
"Selene," Lyra said, steady but gentle. "You first."
Selene hesitated. "I… I will go with you."
She put out her hand, which Selene—without hesitation—took.
Her hands shook as she placed a foot on the swaying timber. Every creak of rope sounded like thunder in her ears. She fixed her eyes on Lyra, waiting, and moved. Step by careful step, Lyra's presence anchored her.
"Don't look down," Lyra called, her voice warm yet firm. "Only forward. Only me."
For a heartbeat, Selene's breath caught—not from fear, but at the way Lyra said it. Only me. The words steadied her more than the rope beneath her palms. She reached the far side trembling, and when Lyra's hand closed around hers to pull her onto solid ground, Selene felt her heart skip like a startled bird.
Lyra went back to instruct the others.
Rory was next. His bravado melted the instant he stepped onto the timber. The void beneath him yawned wide, and his knees quaked.
"I—I can—" His voice cracked.
"Eyes up," Lyra barked, sharp but steady.
He tried. He really did. But his legs wouldn't move. The abyss dragged at his courage, hollowing it out.
Without a word, Shawn stepped onto the rope path, the timbers groaning under his weight. He crouched and swung Rory onto his broad shoulders.
"Hold on tight," Shawn muttered.
Rory clung to him, small fingers digging into the warrior's cloak. His eyes squeezed shut, breath ragged. Every step Shawn took made the rope shudder, every groan of timber echoing like doom.
"Don't look down," Shawn said calmly, as if he were walking through a meadow. "You'll be telling this story for years, lad. Sit tall."
A choked laugh slipped from Rory, part sob, part pride. He held tighter, forcing himself to breathe, forcing himself to be brave.
When Shawn set foot on solid ground again, Rory scrambled down, his chest heaving. He straightened quickly, jaw set as if daring anyone to mock him.
Lyra's eyes softened for just a heartbeat. Then she turned to Elise.
Elise crossed with a warrior's caution, testing each timber, every rope. She moved like a predator on thin ice, and though her jaw clenched tight, she made it across with grim efficiency.
Then it was Lyra's turn. She would not cross until the others—and the horses—were safe. With ropes looped around the animals, she coaxed them forward, steadying their hooves on the swaying path. Her body moved in harmony with the rope and timber, balance perfect, strength controlled.
She was halfway across when it happened.
CRACK.
The sound didn't just knife through the gorge; it tore through it, a gunshot in the silent, star-strewn night. The timber beneath her foot split with a vicious shudder. For an instant, her body pitched sideways, the dizzying drop pulling at her.
"Lyra!" Selene's cry tore from her throat, raw and desperate. Her hand shot out instinctively, as if sheer will could span the blackness.
The ravine roared with silence. Everyone froze.
But Lyra was a warrior. Instinct snapped into place. Twist, push, reach. Her gauntleted hands seized the rope, the fibers biting deep into her skin. She swung, her body a pendulum over the abyss, boots scrambling against stone. She found no purchase—but in a single, desperate motion, she hurled herself forward onto the next platform.
She landed hard, chest crashing against the timber. The impact rattled her teeth, stole her breath. A rough grunt escaped her lips.
"General!" Shawn barked, ready to lunge forward.
Lyra's hand rose—stop. She pushed herself upright, dust streaking her cheek, her grimace twisting into a grin: the wild, dangerous smile of a warrior who had faced death and won. "I'm not finished yet."
Selene pressed a hand to her chest, pulse racing. Relief burned in her eyes, mingled with something deeper—something she dared not name. Lyra caught her gaze across the rope, and for one heartbeat, her stoic mask cracked. Their eyes locked, warmth flickering between them—fragile, forbidden, undeniable.
Then Lyra crossed the last stretch, boots finding solid ground.
The group exhaled as one. The danger was behind them. Lyra gave a single sharp nod, her composure restored. "First obstacle passed. Keep moving."
But as they mounted and pressed on beneath the rising stars, Lyra's hands still tingled from the rope's bite… and Selene's heart had not yet slowed from the moment she thought she'd lost her.