We walked.
The bridge beneath us was long . With every step, it creaked faintly.
Mira carried me in her arms, and I could feel it.
Not just the soft rhythm of her footsteps or the subtle jostle of her arms with each stride , no, I could feel her. Her emotions. They vibrated through her like the aftershock of a quake she hadn't yet recovered from.
She was shaken. Quite Visibly.
Each breath she took was shallow, like her lungs didn't want to draw in the air of this place. Her grip on me was gentle but tense , the way you hold something when your mind is somewhere else, lost in the remnants of what you saw. I could feel her arms slightly trembling. Not violently. Just enough to be unmistakable.
And yet, she said nothing.
None of us did.
Our group moved forward in silence, boots echoing against the ice-like surface of the bridge. Eirlys walked just ahead, her gaze downcast, hands folded in front of her like she was trying to keep from trembling herself. Jet trailed behind, unusually quiet, his usual smirk long gone, replaced by a taut, unreadable line across his face. Lavender walked off to the side, one arm tucked behind her back, her posture straight .
Lucien just in front of us, beside Eirlys.
He never once looked in Mira's direction.
And that's when it started to hit me, the cold, ugly weight blooming in my chest. It wasn't just the horror beneath the bridge that haunted me now.
It was them.
Mira.
Lucien.
My parents.
And the undeniable, festering distance between them.
Surely, Lucien knew.
Surely he noticed how Mira hadn't spoken since seeing the bodies.
How her shoulders were locked with tension. How her lips were tight, eyes distant. How every breath was an effort. Surely he saw all of that.
Yet... he said nothing.
Did nothing.
No hand on her back.
No question of "are you okay?"
Not even a glance.
And it wasn't because he didn't care. No. That wasn't it. I could feel it, just like I could feel Mira's grief. I could feel the fear radiating off him.
Not fear of the bridge. Not fear of what lay ahead.
Fear of her.
Fear that Mira would reject his comfort.
Fear that if he reached out, she would slap his hand away.
Fear that his touch would only remind her of all the times she felt in this trial.
Fear that she'd turn to him and say: "Don't touch me."
Fear that trying would make things worse and that he'd never recover from hearing her say that.
So he said nothing.
And in doing so, he was making it worse.
He thought silence would protect the fragile cord between them, but silence is sharp. It cuts just as deep as words when left too long.
He was trying not to cause pain… but inaction was the cause.
And Mira? She was no less tangled.
I knew, just as clearly, that she wanted comfort.
Wanted his arms around her.
Wanted him to step in to say, "It's okay now. I'm here."
But she didn't ask. Couldn't ask.
Guilt chained her tongue.
Because she'd pushed him away too many times before.
Because she believed it was his duty to know.
He should know, she was thinking.
He should just know.
He should step forward without being told.
And with every second he didn't…
Her hurt deepened.
And in that deepening, anger formed.
Anger that he didn't read her pain.
Anger that her husband, the man who should know her best, stood there like a stranger.
Anger... rooted in fear.
Fear that maybe he wouldn't come for her.
Fear that maybe he'd given up.
That maybe the distance between them was permanent now.
That maybe love wasn't enough.
Lucien's expression was stern. Composed. But his clenched jaw betrayed the storm beneath. His hands flexed now and then, like he wanted to reach out… but couldn't make himself do it.
Mira didn't look his way once.
She didn't need to.
Her silence screamed louder than words.
Even Charlotte, walking ahead of them, glanced over her shoulder now and then, her gaze tight with worry, biting her lip like she was moments from saying something. But each time, she turned forward again.
Even she didn't dare intervene.
Maybe she knew that this was something bigger.
Something that couldn't be fixed by a single word.
They needed more than advice.
They needed healing.
They needed someone to smacj then, sit them down, force them to speak, to break past the pride and fear and shame and to drag them to a room and make them talk.
But who would do that?
Not Lavender.
Not Eirlys.
Not Jet.
And definitely not Charlotte.
I wanted to.
Oh, I wanted to.
More than anything.
But I was just a boy. Nestled in arms that shook with the aftershock of sorrow. A silent observer, watching a love that still burned flicker in the wind of miscommunication.
And I realized something painful.
If they kept walking like this forward, they might never find their way back to each other.
They were hurting.
And neither of them knew how to say it.
The bridge stretched on.
We walked.
The cold air bit at our clothes. The mist thickened, swallowing the view behind us, leaving only what lay ahead.
The bridge groaned again, like a reminder of all the weight it carried.
And still, we walked.
I kept my eyes low, listening to the rhythm of footsteps.
Wishing I could fix something.
Wishing they would just stop.
Look at each other.
Say something.
Anything.
But silence endured.
And then it hit me.
An emotion I wasn't prepared for.
Guilt.
Yeah. That one.
It crept up slow. Like cold fingers dragging across the back of my mind, pulling at the corners of my thoughts. At first, I tried brushing it off. Thought it was the aftershock of Mira's shaking, or maybe the tension in the air.
But no.
This one was mine.
Because deep down, when you peeled everything else away, this entire nightmare? All of it… led back to me.
The estate being attacked.
The workers ending up dead.
Lucien and Mira's relationship falling apart by the hour.
Me.
It was me.
And that realization started to rot something inside my chest.
We were still walking. One foot in front of the other. The bridge stretched beneath us like a never-ending wound in the world, groaning faintly beneath our weight. The mist below still churned. Everyone was quiet, wrapped in their own thoughts.
Then it happened.
My body started crying.
Just… tears. Pouring. No warning.
"What the actual hell?" I cursed inside, flustered. "Stop it. Stupid body. What the hell is this?!"
More tears.
"Bro, I'm not scared! Damn it! What is this betrayal?!" I screamed internally, trying to will the tears away with sheer force of irritation.
But it wouldn't stop. And slowly… I understood.
It wasn't fear.
Not really.
It was the grief.
The kind of grief that slips past your mental defenses and sucker-punches the soul. My body was just the first to react. The vessel broke before the mind caught up.
And so, here I was, getting rocked gently in Mira's arms, sniffling like a toddler when my brain was still yelling "THIS ISN'T FAIR! I'M NOT EVEN SCARED, DAMN IT!"
Mira noticed immediately.
She looked down, eyes wide, alarmed, but soft. She held me closer, adjusting her grip, one hand moving to the back of my head as she began rocking me gently.
"Shh… shhh… It's okay," she whispered, her voice low and warm, a contrast to the storm in both of us.
"Damn it, woman, I'm not scared! This is your fault, stupid body!" I screamed internally again, embarrassed beyond repair.
Still, I didn't fight the rocking. It was nice.
We kept walking.
Eventually, something changed.
The bridge began to curve slightly upward, and in the distance, or maybe not distance, this place was weird, a wall of swirling smoke stood waiting.
Not thick like fog. Not wispy like mist.
It moved.
Coiled like it was alive. Gray-black threads laced with flickers of something glowing. Not fire. Not light. Just... a presence. A shifting curtain.
We stopped before it.
There was no visible end to the bridge beyond. No alternative path.
Just the smoke.
Charlotte stepped forward, just slightly.
"What is this?" she asked softly.
Lucien, as if hearing some internal cue, stepped forward without hesitation. His posture didn't shift. Still calm. Still unreadable. He walked up to the wall of smoke, raised a hand briefly as if brushing against it.
Then he stepped through.
The smoke took him.
Swallowed.
Gone.
No sound. No flash. No scream.
Just... absence.
We waited.
Seconds passed. Then more.
"Lord Lucien?" Charlotte called out.
No reply.
Lavender's eyes narrowed. Her hand brushed her hip. Then she looked back at the rest of us.
"We need to go through. This is the only path forward."
Mira turned sharply toward her.
"Are you mad?!" she snapped, her voice trembling with both anger and disbelief. "He just disappeared. We have no idea what's in there, and your solution is just to jump in like lemmings?!"
Lavender didn't flinch.
"I'm certain you don't have a better idea," she replied coolly. "We do not exactly have the luxury of choice."
And with that, she stepped forward.
Gone.
Eirlys followed quietly. No hesitation. No words. Just a nod.
Jet rolled his shoulders and muttered something like "Here we go again" before stepping in after them.
That left us.
Mira.
Charlotte.
And me.
There was a pause.
Then Mira turned toward Charlotte, voice clipped.
"Aren't you going to go like the others?"
Charlotte shook her head once. Steady. Calm.
"No, my lady. I will await your decision before we proceed."
Mira blinked, caught off guard.
"What...?"
Charlotte stepped closer. Not hurried. Not stiff. Just... gentle.
"I understand, my lady," she said quietly. "I understand the fear. This place. What lies ahead. What we've seen... What we might still see."
Mira said nothing.
Charlotte continued.
"You were always brave. One of the bravest people I knew. You smiled in the face of pressure I would've collapsed under. You stood tall when it was easier to hide. You faced nobles, politics, all of it."
She swallowed.
"But I know this is different. Because the people you love are in danger. Because this isn't the life you were meant for. And that makes it terrifying."
Mira looked down. Her lips trembled. Her hands tightened around me.
"I... I can't," she whispered.
Charlotte stepped closer. Gently embraced her.
"You can. And I'll help."
Mira blinked rapidly. Her eyes glistened.
"My apologies for the rude behaviour, my lady," Charlotte said softly.
Mira's voice was small, cracked.
"I don't... know what to do."
Charlotte smiled gently, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes.
"That's okay. I'll be with you. We all will."
Mira closed her eyes. Then... nodded.
Barely.
She looked down, whispering:
"Let's go."
Charlotte nodded and turned, gently guiding her toward the wall of smoke.
I said nothing.
Just held tighter.
Because in that moment, I knew something fragile just held itself together.
But only just.
We walked into the mist.