Return of the General's Daughter

Jethru’s voice echoed from just beyond the mouth of the cave, edged with disappointment. "The river’s swollen. It is deep and wide. No way we’re crossing by wading."

Logan shoved past the final bend and stepped into the open. The others followed, blinking as sunlight cut through the trees. Cool air rushed to meet them—crisp, sharp, and clean, like a mother’s touch after a long fever.

The river stretched before them, broad, fast, and unforgiving. Its banks overflowed, the usual muddy edges now erased by the swollen current. The roar of the water filled the ravine like distant thunder. Hopes for a shallow crossing died the moment they saw it.

It must have rained heavily in the mountains of Ourea.

Chunks of wood, foam, and shattered remnants of an old rope bridge churned in the current. A thick tree limb bobbed near the far side, tangled with frayed rope—what remained of their crossing.

Logan cursed under his breath. "Someone cut the rope bridge."

Alaric narrowed his eyes, jaw set. "They knew we’d try this path?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Logan crouched, scanning the waterline. "Look there." He pointed toward the splintered branch tangled with rope. "See that? That tree must’ve come down in a flash flood and tore the bridge apart. The mountains must’ve been hit hard last night."

A collective breath of relief rippled through the group. It was not sabotage but the force of nature.

But it didn’t change the fact: they were stuck.

Redon glanced over his shoulder. The jungle was too quiet. Too still. "We can’t backtrack. They’ll trap us in Gaden’s Ravine."