Page 109 of The War of Four Winters

"The bridge," Niro shouted over the din of battle. "Keep moving forward!"

We pressed on, fighting yard by yard toward our objective. The Eastern Bridge loomed closer now, its ornate entrance guarded by a phalanx of Deepfrost elite wearing ceremonial masks carved to resemble skulls. These were no ordinary soldiers but Tarathiel's personal guard, trained from childhood to die without hesitation at their master's command.

A horn sounded from the direction of the river, three long blasts that carried over the sounds of combat.

"They're retreating," someone shouted from our lines. "We've broken them!"

Our warriors surged forward, carried by bloodlust and the promise of victory. I found myself swept along with the tide of bodies. It was either move with them or risk being trampled.

We had crossed nearly halfway across the massive span when everything went wrong.

One moment I was running, sword in hand, the next—

BOOM!

The blast hit with such force it felt solid, a wall of unbearable heat and pressure that lifted me off my feet and hurled me sideways. My ears popped, then filled with a high-pitched whine that drowned out all other sounds. The world tilted sickeningly, stone and sky swapping places in nauseating succession.

I slammed against something—the railing?—pain shooting through my shoulder. The air itself felt scorched, my lungs burning with each desperate breath. Through the ringing in my ears came a terrible groaning sound, deep and primal like the death cry of the earth itself.

Stone rained from above, massive chunks falling like deadly hail. The world tilted again, steeper this time. Warriors slid past me, their mouths open in screams I couldn't hear over the terrible ringing. Someone grabbed my ankle, fingernails digging into flesh before they lost their grip and plummeted away.

The section of bridge beneath me suddenly dropped, my stomach lurching into my throat as gravity reasserted itself. My sword went spinning away into empty space. I clawed desperately for anything solid, finding only air as the world fell away.

The surface of the river rushed up toward me—or I toward it—the distinction meaningless in that endless moment of free fall. All around me, bodies tumbled through space, their limbs flailing uselessly against the inevitable.

I hit the water with stunning force, all thought obliterated in an instant of pure impact. Then came the cold—not just cold, but a living thing that invaded every part of me. Ice water flooded my nose, my mouth, and my lungs in a shocking rush.

Wait. When did I go underwater?

My mind couldn't process what had happened. One moment I was running across stone, the next submerged in freezing darkness. The cold hit my muscles like a seizure, locking them tight, refusing to let them move as I wanted. Panic bloomed, bright and terrible.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't think.

The weight of my armor dragged me deeper, water pressure building against my ears, my chest, my skull. Above, distorted by the churning water, I could see fire still burning on floating debris, casting an eerie, wavering light through the depths.

The cold tightened its grip with each passing second, my lungs screaming for air that wasn't there. With numb, clumsy fingers, I fumbled at the straps of my breastplate, fighting to free myself from the weight dragging me down.

The first strap gave way. The second refused to yield, my fingers too numb to work the buckle properly. Black spots began to dance at the edges of my vision.

A massive stone block plunged into the water nearby, driving me deeper with its wake. The current tossed me like a leaf, sending me tumbling end over end. I didn't know which way was up anymore, which way was down, which way led to air and life.

My chest convulsed, my body desperately trying to draw breath where none existed. The black spots grew larger, consciousness slipping away despite my frantic efforts to hold on.

In my fading thoughts, I saw Ruith's face. Saw Leif and Torsten. Saw the family I had only just formally claimed. I would never see them again. Never return as I had promised. Never know if our dream of a better world would survive.

The world narrowed to a single point of light, then began to fade entirely. Through the gathering darkness, I saw an enormous piece of the bridge—a decorated column larger than a horse—plummeting through the water directly toward me. Its shadow engulfed everything as it descended, the final punctuation to my existence.

I couldn't even raise a hand to ward it off as consciousness slipped away and darkness claimed me completely.

TheWesternBridgeapproachshould have been easier than the Eastern. Instead, chaos erupted all at once.

First came the deafening crack that shook the entire city—a sound like the world itself breaking apart that sent birds scattering from towers and rooftops. Then the horrifying sight of the Eastern Bridge collapsing in sections, massive stone blocks plummeting into the churning river below, carrying scores of warriors with them.

"Elindir," I breathed, my heart seizing as I watched the distant bridge crumble. He had been leading that assault. He had been on that bridge.

No time to process. No time to feel. The enemy was upon us.

Battle engulfed our position as Tarathiel's forces struck from hidden positions along our route. Steel met steel in the narrow streets as we fought desperately toward an objective that no longer existed.

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