7: The Bridge That Remembers

Light gave way to nothingness.

For a moment, Lili felt like she was falling—not downward, but inward. As though the world had turned itself inside out, and she was tumbling through the hollow space left behind. There was no sound, no breath, no Ezra or Elira beside her. Only the echo of her own thoughts, splintering through a void that seemed far too familiar.

And then—impact.

Her knees slammed against cold stone, the force rattling her bones. She sucked in a breath, the air sharp with metal and memory.

She looked up.

They stood on a massive bridge stretching endlessly in both directions, suspended over a glowing silver chasm that had no beginning and no visible end. The bridge was wide enough for three to walk abreast, its surface made of translucent stone veined with light that pulsed in a slow rhythm, like a heartbeat. Thick obsidian chains arced into the fog above, anchoring the bridge to unseen pillars in the sky.

Elira landed beside her, one knee bent, already rising with elegance. Ezra followed a second later, landing in a crouch, her robe swirling around her like a shadow trying to remember how to be human.

“What is this place?” Lili whispered, barely able to form the words.

Ezra stood first. “The Axis of Fracture.”

Lili blinked at her. “That’s… encouraging.”

“It’s a bridge between what you forgot and what you buried,” Elira explained. “Between the truth you sealed… and the one you feared.”

“And what’s beneath us?” Lili asked, glancing down.

Ezra’s voice was quiet. “Memories that died in the process.”

Lili stepped to the edge cautiously. Beneath the bridge, the silver fog shifted, revealing flickering silhouettes—fragments of other versions of herself. A younger Lili with blood on her hands. Another standing atop a ruined city. One laughing under a sky filled with twin moons. All gone in seconds.

“I don’t want to be here,” Lili whispered.

“You need to be here,” Ezra said gently. “The Hollow Realm grows stronger with every moment you hesitate. This bridge is the only way forward.”

Lili turned her back to the edge. “Why does everything feel like a test?”

“Because you’re finally waking up to who you are,” Elira answered.

Lili clenched her jaw and forced her legs to move. They began to walk together—Ezra leading, Lili in the center, Elira close behind. Every step Lili took made the runes beneath her feet shimmer faintly, reacting to her presence like a long-lost memory recognizing its keeper.

About a hundred steps in, the whispers began.

At first they were barely audible, like the rustling of leaves in a long-forgotten language. But soon they grew louder—voicing fears, regrets, and insecurities that Lili thought she’d buried in her “old life.”

“I’m not enough.”

“They’ll all leave.”

“You were better off asleep.”

Lili’s steps faltered.

Ezra glanced over her shoulder. “Ignore them.”

“How?” Lili asked. “They sound like me.”

“Because they are,” Elira said. “Echoes from every false life you lived. The bridge is laced with your doubts.”

“I hate this,” Lili said through gritted teeth.

“You’re supposed to,” Ezra replied. “This path was never meant to be easy. That’s how we know it’s real.”

A sudden gust of wind tore through the space, chilling them to the core. Lili wrapped her arms around herself as the fog beneath the bridge twisted violently. Shapes began to crawl out of it—shifting, formless creatures with flickering limbs and vacant faces.

Elira’s stance changed instantly—defensive, ready. “Lurkers.”

Ezra stopped walking. “They’re trying to breach the fracture field. They can’t climb the bridge, but they can reach into your head.”

Lili squeezed her eyes shut as the whispers grew louder—now mingled with hollow laughter. One of the Lurkers rose tall beneath the bridge, face forming a grotesque imitation of her mother’s features.

“We missed you, Lili. Come back home.”

Lili's breath caught in her throat. She stumbled backward and almost fell—until Elira grabbed her arm.

“Don’t look at them. They feed on recognition.”

“But they look like them,” Lili said, voice trembling. “They sound like the people I… I used to know.”

“They’re not,” Ezra said, eyes blazing. “They’re Hollow-born. They wear your past like masks.”

Another Lurker rose beside the first—this one with a faceless head and countless mouths stitched along its body. From those mouths, it hissed:

“You are a lie, Lili. A fiction dressed in hope. Come back to sleep.”

Lili froze. Her legs locked. “Why do they want me so badly? What did I ever take from them?”

Ezra turned slowly. Her eyes glinted with something ancient and fierce.

“You didn’t take from them,” she said. “You denied them. And now they want to rewrite you.”

Lili stepped back, trying to steady her breathing. “I’m not strong enough.”

Elira’s hand closed around hers. “You don’t have to be. Not yet. Just keep moving.”

The bridge shook violently. Runes cracked underfoot. Whispers screamed louder.

Lili’s heart pounded. “What happens if we fall?”

“We don’t,” Elira said, gripping her tighter. “We don’t.”

And then, from deep within her chest—past the panic, past the grief—something rose. Not rage. Not fear. But defiance.

She threw her head back and screamed—not in terror, but in refusal.

The runes beneath her feet flared like fire. The fog screamed back, retreating as if scorched by her will.

Ezra blinked, momentarily stunned. “You’ve begun to awaken again.”

“I didn’t mean to—” Lili started.

“No,” Ezra cut her off. “But your soul did.”

The bridge steadied. The wind quieted. And as they turned to keep moving, the silver fog parted, revealing the far end of the Axis.

There, across the final stretch of stone, stood a ruined citadel. Unlike Valdris, it was twisted and overgrown with thorned shadows. Black vines pulsed like veins. Its towers leaned toward them, as if listening.

And at the shattered gate stood a figure—cloaked in violet, face hidden beneath a silver half-mask. The fabric of the robe shimmered like broken light.

“Who is that?” Lili asked, breath shallow.

Ezra’s expression darkened. “They’ve never been seen outside the ruins. Until now.”

The figure took a single step forward.

Elira reached protectively in front of Lili.

Then the figure spoke.

“Welcome home… Chronicle Flame.”

Lili’s heart stopped.

That name—it thundered through her ribs like a memory too large for her body.

Ezra looked stricken. Elira paled.

“That name was erased,” Elira whispered. “No one should know it.”

The figure smiled behind the mask.

“I remember what you begged to forget.”

And then—quietly, almost kindly:

“Shall we finish what you started?”