At the peak of it, Sadal’s face has been carved, a long tongue curling from his parted lips. I shudder, suddenly wary of it. Even Sadal is hesitant. I pause in front of the arch, looking at the stone steps that lead upwards and across the bridge. Beneath it, vicious, black water broils, rushing at break-neck speed through a chasm. This is no river of my youth. I swallow hard, my hand searching for Altair’s out of habit. But it’s Thal who places a gentle hand on my lower back, a quiet reminder. I tear my hand back as Altair’s fingers brush over it.
Altair hides the ache in his voice but it still hurts my heart. “What’s on the other side?”
“The portal to the Second Stratum,” Sadal says quietly. “This path will take us through it quickly, away from the main passes that the Shades frequent.”
“Why don’t you do the honors,” Altair suggests with a cruel tone.
“It won’t matter who goes first. She’ll stop us all anyway,” Sadal says, pursing his lips.
Erzur steps up, almond-shaped eyes narrowed with fear. “Who?”
“Presium, the Devourer, the Collector.” Serus stares at the bridge. “She’s known by many names.”
Sadal turns black eyes on us. “Are you prepared to pay the toll?”
Chapter 5
Altair
My eyes are locked on the nape of Verity's neck. Her head is turned away from me, eyes on the dread-inducing bridge in front of us. I study the porcelain curve of her neck and the sharp, staccato rhythm of her heart. She's frightened, though doing her best to hide it. Thal's hand is on the small of her back, a finger stroking circles over her flesh. I close my eyes, breathing deeply as emotions of jealousy, desire, fear, and duty rage through me.
It's clear to me now, more apparent than it was in the thousands of years I've lived, that every action has a consequence. And each action and consequence branches off to a new path. I could have lived hundreds of different lives, different stories. And yet here I am, standing in front of a cursed bridge with the woman I love and a desperate need to save her and the world. I was born a Prince and became a King. I have fought countless wars and defeated a God. And yet, the impossibility of it all is hanging around my neck like a noose. You can’t do this, the scratchy rope says—you are nothing.
I put a single boot on the first step, heart pounding. The noose laughs. An attempt at proving my courage, my worthiness; and nothing more. But nothing happens as I ascend the stairs and I feel a sharp wave of relief. Verity is on my heels, not willing to let me face the danger alone. My heart tugs towards her, an invisible chain linking us together for eternity. Behind her, the others follow until we all stand directly beneath the arch, staring at the long stretch of stone that spans the River Mori. Silence swirls around us, as oppressive as the darkness of the Ether.
Suddenly, the bridge trembles, as if rocked by a quake of the earth. I reach for the arch to steady myself. Verity tumbles against me, almost losing her grip on the magical lantern that gives us some semblance of safety here. I hold her, keeping her upright as the bridge sways back and forth. Fear courses through my veins, and I tug her against my chest. I'm certain the bridge will snap in two with the force of the shaking. I angle my body in such a way that I could push Verity back onto solid ground should the bridge collapse.
But the trembling stops as quickly as it came, and the roar of the river fills my ears. Verity pushes away reluctantly, letting her fingers trail down my chest. Resisting the urge to pull her back into me is excruciating. Her blue eyes meet mine for an instant before she puts a safe, discreet distance between us again.
"Are there visitors on my bridge?" A raspy voice echoes towards us. It's soft but strong enough to overcome the force of the river.
I scan the bridge for any sign of the speaker. Fear shoots through me like a lightning bolt as a massive, wrinkled hand, grips the side of the bridge. The stone cracks and crumbles under the weight of it, but the bridge holds steady. A second hand slaps down on the other side of the bridge. I can see veins of darkness spider beneath the wrinkled, papery skin. The nails are yellowed with age and cracked, crusted beneath with dirt or worse.
I raise my sword as Thal and Erzur do the same, always the ready warriors. A head appears, rising slowly over the walls of the bridge. It’s enormous, fit to match the two hands. The scalp is balding, stringy remnants of gray hair clinging desperately to the pocked skin. Gray, unseeing eyes are locked on my group. Cracked lips part to speak.
“There are visitors on my bridge,” the creature says, answering its own question.
It looms over us and could easily snatch us all up in one hand. I step forward, hand wrapped tightly around my sword. "We would cross your bridge," I roar, putting all my strength behind my voice.
“Visitors must pay the toll,” the creature rasps. I feel it’s gaze pierce deep into my soul. “You have many precious things indeed, Fae King.”
“We brought no money,” I say.
“Value does not always mean money,” the creature snaps. “But you have precious things.”
I run my tongue over my teeth, frustration prickling in my gut. “What do you want?”
“Your most precious memory,” the creatures says, smiling. “Then I will allow all to pass.”
“Just a memory?”
