The Bridge

The Bridge loomed before them like a titan born from the mountains themselves, an impenetrable fortress carved from the unyielding stone. Its sheer size defied belief, a testament to the architects who had shaped this monolith of vigilance and power. The name Bridge was deceptive—what stretched before them was far more than a simple crossing. Its uppermost arches and piers spanned the yawning gorge, connecting the jagged peaks of the mountain range in an unbroken sweep of ancient engineering.

Yet, the true marvel was not the bridge deck but the five colossal stone pillars that supported it. These towering supports didn't simply hold the bridge aloft—they were watchtowers in their own right, their heights rivaling the mountains they were embedded within. Crenelated parapets lined the tops of the towers, forming a jagged crown against the sky. Narrow slits carved into the stone hinted at hidden defenses—archers' nests, ballista platforms, perhaps worse. Beneath the bridge itself, garrison quarters and barracks were housed within the stone's heart, and a towering portcullis guarded the single entryway to western Lorian.

The gate, known mockingly as the Gate of Honors, was a barrier of thick wood reinforced with dark iron bands. A winding path led up to it, flanked by sharp cliffs that made ambush impossible. A full battalion of soldiers could line the walls above, raining death on any force foolish enough to approach. Beyond the gate, the bridge stretched westward, a vital artery of trade and passage severed long ago when it fell into enemy hands.

Vyn's voice broke the heavy silence as he surveyed the structure from their vantage point in the shadowed reeds below. "I didn't believe the rumors when I first heard them. They said it was twice the size of the Hall of Kings." His tone was almost reverent. "Standing here, I'd say they underestimated. This thing—it's at least three times as large." He gestured toward the sprawling fortress. "And we're supposed to take it."

Akash's gaze was fixed on the Bridge, his words a whisper. "Where do we even begin?"

The armies of Reem and their mercenary allies were spread out in massive camps, stretching across the rocky red plains below. Thin columns of smoke rose from campfires, dissipating into the sky. The Three Pact army was vast—waves upon waves of soldiers waiting to clash with the defenders of the Gate. The Dauntless Company stood at the forefront, joined by the Shardstone Company, the Men of the North, the Red Fist Company, and the Exalted Company. Five renowned armies of mercenaries had been hired for this singular purpose: to storm the unassailable Bridge. Behind them, six divisions of Reem's khopesh infantry and the heavily armored Reem Templars bolstered their forces.

"It's been centuries since an army this large marched," Creed rumbled, his taloned gauntlet flexing as he studied the fortress. "Not since the Age of Fallacy."

"We must look like ants from up there," Akash murmured, his stygian lesh shifting restlessly beneath him.

Creed shot him a glance. "You nervous? You should be. No plan survives a wall like that."

Vyn interjected, his tone sharper. "The plan's sound. The Templars take the brunt of the assault, and the mercenary companies follow. Once we breach the Gate of Honors, the Bridge is ours. That's all we need to do."

Creed snorted, shaking his head. "Breaching the gate won't matter if half the army is dead before we get there."

Akash ran a hand through his hair, his gaze trailing over the rocky plains that stretched out on either side. The terrain was hostile, jagged red stone broken only by reeds that swayed in the dry wind. Soon, the reeds and the ground beneath them would be soaked in blood.

Above them, the Bridge stood tantalizingly close, its shadow stretching long and cold over the plain. It was more than just a structure. It was a symbol—of power, of dominance, of mockery. The Gate of Honors itself was a cruel jest, a reminder of what Reem had lost. Long ago, the eastern kingdoms had controlled this vital trade route, and with it, the wealth of western Lorian. Now, the gate stood as an insult, its name a taunt to those who dreamed of reclaiming it.

Akash tugged the reins of his lesh, its sleek black shell glinting in the sun. "Do you have plans for after this?"

Vyn's expression softened slightly, a rare flicker of humor in the grim moment. "I plan to drink myself stupid and dance on the tallest tower of the Bridge. The largest structure in eastern Lorian deserves a proper celebration."

Akash smiled faintly. "I might join you. I owe Jassin and Dante a drink as well—a thanks for the future they paved for us."

Vyn smirked, nudging him. "To the future and the past, then. Maybe you'll finally work up the courage to ask Imi for that date."

Akash punched Vyn's shoulder, grinning despite himself. "Shut it, or I'll tell Lyra you snuck off for one last scenic stroll before the battle."

Vyn paled slightly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Please don't. I think she's finally stopped yelling at me—for now, at least."

Their brief levity was cut short as they turned back toward the encampment. The moment of calm was over.

When the armies gathered, the sight was awe-inspiring. Veneres and Akash rode side by side at the front of the Three Pact army. Behind them, banners bearing the sigils of the Dauntless Company flared in the wind. Their mounts pawed the ground, eager for the battle ahead, as the infantry fell into disciplined ranks.

Veneres cast a sidelong glance at Akash. "Only release the Ruin if all hope is lost."

Akash's tone was curt, his patience fraying. "We've talked about this."

"Angel, if we fail here, the Hopekiller won't hesitate. All of Reem will be crushed under his heel. I'd rather endure your wrath than let this end in a massacre."

"No," Akash growled, his voice firm. "I won't unleash that horror. We'll win because we fought to the bitter end, not because we turned the battlefield into a graveyard."

Veneres sighed, frustration bleeding into his voice. "Your stubbornness will doom us all."

"Then we'll fight, and we'll win." Akash's gaze didn't waver.

"So be it," Veneres muttered.

The sound of a distant horn shattered the tension, its mournful cry echoing across the plains. Drums followed, their heavy rhythm pounding like a heartbeat. The infantry of Reem surged forward, their movements synchronized, their armor gleaming under the midday sun.

Ahead, the enemy emerged—soldiers clad in chainmail and leather, their weapons brutal and efficient. Cutlasses gleamed in the sunlight, and flails swung ominously at their sides. Their shields, painted red and silver, bore the symbol of a tilted cross etched boldly at the center. They were bulkier than the men of Reem, their armor heavier, their presence foreboding.

The two forces clashed in the narrow scar of sand that cut through the reeds. Steel met steel, the clang of weapons mingling with the cries of the wounded and the roar of the drums. The Reem Templars charged at the forefront, their gleaming khopesh blades slicing through the enemy lines.

Above it all, the Bridge loomed, a silent witness to the carnage below. Its walls remained unbroken, its towers untouched. The Gate of Honors stood as a challenge, daring them to breach its defenses.

Akash's grip tightened on the reins as he glanced at Veneres. Their goal hung just out of reach, an impossible fortress standing between them and victory.

The battle had begun, and with it, the struggle to claim the Bridge and change the course of history.