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The bridge was easily wide enough to traverse side-by-side. Four people might have stood upon it, shoulder to shoulder.
That still did not mean I didn’t wish for guardrails. A low wall. Anything.
“Linking your fate to mine once again?” I teased.
Mischief flashed across his face. “I suppose I could tie you to me with a rope. Would you like that?”
“Which part of me would you tie?” I asked before I could stop myself. “No. Don’t answer that. Not right now.” I willed myself to stop imagining the possibilities. “Hands would be nice.”
Clasping hands, we began to walk. I tried not to think about the vast chasm below. The gaping maws of space to either side.
Or the faint breeze, not quite a wind, that caught strands of my hair. Nowhere near strong enough to push us off the bridge but distracting nonetheless.
We kept walking. A quarter of the way.
Then a third.
I glanced downwards. Blackness. A bottomless valley of stone.
Why did the sight of it terrify me so much?
I shifted the grail in my sweating hand.
Draven glanced at me. “Do you want me to take it?”
I shook my head but let go of his hand, switching the grail to it and wiping the sweat from my other.
We walked on.
We were drawing near to halfway when a rumbling began far below us.
I looked at Draven uneasily.
We quickened our pace a little.
The rumbling increased. The bridge beneath our feet began to quiver ever so slightly.
We moved more quickly, passing the midpoint.
The rumbling noise was growing louder, becoming a thunderous roar.
Stones shifted uneasily. The arches overhead groaned in protest.
Dust rained upon us from ancient crevices overhead.
The bridge’s trembling intensified.
Draven’s hand found mine and squeezed. “Run?”
“I like your plan,” I gasped.
We ran forward. I held the grail at my side. We didn’t need the beam to direct us, we already knew where to go.
But it was too late.
The bridge trembled violently beneath our feet.
Something was coming.
