Chapter 70: Ashes in Loom, II
The first step onto the bridge wasn't taken in courage. It was taken in silence.
We crossed into the unknown with nothing in our hands—no blades, no constructs. Only the weight of memory. The river below cut its silver path through the canyon like a scar across the world, and the wind barely moved. The bridge stretched ahead—ancient, fractured, scared. It bore out footsteps like it had borne countless before, but this time, it was waiting for an ending.
Konrads's coat rustled faintly as he walked behind me. I didn't turn. Erich blinked once to my right—his breath short, his eyes forward. He'd been wounded more than once in this war, and we both knew it wouldn't be the last time.
None of us spoke. We didn't have to.
The stones beneath our boots were older than us, older than anything we'd survived. Worn smooth by centuries of wind, war, and memory. The bridge groaned faintly beneath out steps—no creak of collapse, just the exhale of something that knew it was being watched.
We weren't three warriors. We were three remnants.
Helene stood at the far end.
Still.
Like a statue carved from purpose alone. Her dress, dark and pristine, swayed slightly in a wind none of us could feel. The air around her shimmered faintly—not with heat, but with memory. Like the space she occupied was anchored to another time entirely.
She didn't draw power. She didn't ignite threadlight. She didn't summon an army.
She waited.