The next morning broke with no sun, only a sickly gray hue stretching overhead like the belly of a corpse. Mist clung to the cliffs like spider silk, and the shattered land bridge before them looked no less menacing than the night before. The stones were slick from days of rain, their jagged edges rimmed with moss and fungus. Beneath, the void still yawned—silent and endless.
Vale crossed first.
Each step was deliberate, his boots gripping the narrow path as he moved along the decaying stretch. The wind hissed at him from the chasm, and once, the ledge beneath him shifted. He dropped to a crouch, arms wide, balancing, heart hammering in his chest. Then, slowly, he rose and continued. When he made it across, he turned and gave a nod.
Jade followed without hesitation. She moved lighter than him, less burdened by fear or memory. Within moments, she stood beside him, eyes on the ravine below.
"Still stable," she said. "Barely."
