Varin’s breath caught in her throat as she and Fetch emerged from the tunnel, the narrow passage opening up into the cavernous expanse of the dungeon’s most infamous feature: the Bridge of Ember. The heat hit her first, a stifling, oppressive wave that seemed to suck the air from her lungs. She squinted against the crimson glow that filled the chamber, her eyes tracing the jagged edges of the chasm that yawned beneath the bridge. Below, the river of lava churned restlessly, glowing a sinister orange, the molten flow promising certain death to anyone foolish enough to fall.

The bridge itself was a relic of another age, its wooden planks worn and rotted, many missing entirely and leaving gaping holes that revealed the inferno below. The cables that held it aloft were frayed and rusted, groaning under the weight of the structure with every passing moment. The bridge seemed to stretch on for miles, swaying precariously in the heated air, as though the slightest misstep could send it—and them—plummeting into the abyss.

Varin’s heart pounded as she took in the daunting sight. Every instinct screamed at her to turn back, to find another way, but there was no other way. Fetch had insisted this was the only route forward, that the dungeon’s secrets lay just beyond this harrowing trial.

Fetch stood beside her, their head tilted at an odd angle as they gazed at the bridge with wide, unblinking eyes. The lava’s light cast strange shadows across their face, highlighting their peculiar expression. They hummed a tuneless melody under their breath, as if the danger before them were nothing more than a mild inconvenience, like deciding whether to carry an umbrella on a cloudy day.

Varin glanced at Fetch, hoping they would offer some practical advice for once. Instead, they turned to her with a crooked smile. “Miles and miles, we walk for miles, on the wings of wire and wood. Can you feel it? The heartbeat of the bridge? Tick, tock, tick, tock. It’s counting us.”

Varin resisted the urge to groan. Fetch had a way of turning every situation into a riddle, one that only they seemed to understand. “Counting us?” she echoed, hoping for some kind of clarification.

“Tick, tock,” Fetch repeated, bobbing their head to a rhythm only they could hear. “Tick, tock. Every step is a beat, every beat a choice. One foot in front of the other, Varin. Or will the bridge choose for you?”

Varin bit back a sharp retort. Arguing with Fetch was as productive as shouting at the wind. But she had to admit, as cryptic as they were, Fetch had an uncanny way of knowing things—things no one else could possibly know.

She turned her attention back to the bridge, her gaze moving over the missing planks and frayed cables. The gaps would be a challenge, but if she timed her steps right, she could leap over them. The real danger was the cables—if even one snapped, the entire structure could collapse, sending them both into the lava below.

The heat was suffocating, sweat beading on her brow and trickling down the back of her neck. The air was thick with the acrid scent of sulfur, burning her throat with every breath. Varin swallowed hard, her mouth dry as she considered the task ahead.

“Fetch,” she began cautiously, choosing her words with care, “you’ve done this before, right? Crossed this bridge?”

Fetch’s eyes darted to her, their smile widening. “Crossed and crossed again, a thousand times in dreams. But dreams are fickle, Varin, just like bridges. Dreams and bridges, bridges and dreams. Do you trust your dreams, Varin? Do you trust the bridge?”

Varin clenched her jaw. Dreams? What kind of answer is that? She didn’t trust anything about this bridge, but she had to trust Fetch. They wouldn’t have brought her this far if they didn’t have a plan. Even if their plan sounds like something out of a fever dream.

“Right,” Varin said, forcing herself to sound confident. “So... we just have to take it slow, one step at a time. Stick to the middle, where the cables are strongest.”

Fetch nodded enthusiastically. “Slow, slow, fast, fast! But never too fast, or the bridge will wake. And when it wakes... oh, when it wakes, Varin, the dance begins.”

Varin’s heart skipped a beat. The dance? What in the world was Fetch talking about? She forced herself to take a deep breath, focusing on the immediate task. One step at a time. I can do this.

She approached the edge of the bridge, her hooves clopping softly against the stone as she tested the first plank. It creaked ominously but held. She took another step, her muscles tensing as the bridge swayed beneath her. The heat was overwhelming, and the sight of the lava far below made her stomach lurch. She glanced back at Fetch, who was watching her with wide, expectant eyes.

“Tick, tock,” Fetch murmured, almost too quietly to hear. “Tick, tock, Varin.”

Ignore them. Focus. Varin steeled herself, taking another step, then another. The bridge groaned and swayed, but held firm. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, every inhalation a struggle against the stifling heat. She could feel the waves of heat rising from the lava, searing her skin even from this distance.

As she ventured further onto the bridge, the gaps between the planks grew wider, some too far to step across. She would have to jump. Varin’s heart pounded as she eyed the first gap. It was wide enough that she’d have to push off hard to clear it, but not so wide that it was impossible. Just don’t look down.

She crouched slightly, coiling her muscles like a spring, and leaped. The moment her hooves left the plank, the terrifying emptiness of the chasm below engulfed her, the heat from the lava pressing in from all sides. Time stretched thin as she sailed through the air, her heart hammering in her chest. Then, with a jarring thud, she landed on the next plank, her legs buckling slightly under the impact.

The bridge shuddered, the cables groaning in protest, but it held. Varin let out a shaky breath, her legs trembling as she steadied herself. “Tick, tock,” Fetch called from behind her, their voice eerily calm. “The bridge is watching, Varin. The bridge is waiting.”

“Would you stop that?” she snapped, her voice strained with tension. But Fetch only smiled, their eyes glinting with some private amusement.

Why did I bring them again? Oh, right. They know this place better than anyone. Varin shook her head, trying to banish the frustration rising within her. She couldn’t afford to lose focus now. Not when she was only halfway across.

She continued forward, each step more nerve-wracking than the last. The gaps grew wider, the bridge more unstable, swaying with every movement. Sweat dripped down her face, stinging her eyes, and her breaths came in ragged gasps. The heat was unbearable, the air thick and heavy, making every movement feel like a monumental effort.

“Fetch,” Varin called back, her voice hoarse. “You’re sure about this? We’re going the right way?”

Fetch hummed softly, their voice carrying through the oppressive heat. “Right and wrong, wrong and right. Who’s to say, Varin? Who’s to say?” They stepped onto the bridge, their movements light and carefree, as if they were merely strolling through a meadow.

Varin bit back a growl of frustration. Of course, Fetch would be as cryptic as ever. But there was no turning back now. She was too far along to retreat, and the only way forward was... well, forward.

She approached the next gap, this one even wider than the last. Her muscles tensed, her legs burning, lungs aching. She had to make this jump, or she’d fall. The thought sent a spike of fear through her, but she pushed it aside. No time for fear. Just focus.

She crouched again, readying herself for the jump, when Fetch’s voice cut through the air, sharp and clear. “Wait!”

Varin froze, her heart skipping a beat. She turned to see Fetch staring at the bridge with sudden intensity, their whimsical demeanor gone.

“What? What is it?” Varin asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Fetch didn’t answer immediately. They closed their eyes, swaying slightly as if listening to something only they could hear. Then they opened their eyes and smiled—a smile that sent a chill down Varin’s spine, despite the heat. “The bridge has a rhythm, Varin. A rhythm you have to follow. Jump on the next beat, and only then.”

Varin stared at them, her mind racing. A rhythm? What rhythm? But there was no time to question it. Fetch had been right about too many things in this dungeon for her to doubt them now.

She closed her eyes, blocking out everything but the sound of her own heartbeat, trying to sense whatever it was Fetch had noticed. At first, there was nothing but the oppressive heat and the distant roar of the lava below. But then... she felt it. A subtle, almost imperceptible vibration running through the bridge. It was faint, but there, pulsing in time with the creaking of the cables.

Varin took a deep breath, centering herself, waiting for the right moment. The rhythm was slow, deliberate, almost like the ticking of a clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

And then, just as the next tick resonated through the bridge, she jumped.

Time stretched again, the world narrowing to the span of empty air beneath her, the molten river far below. For a moment, Varin thought she had mistimed it, that she would fall short. But then her hooves hit solid wood, the plank shuddering under her weight but holding firm. She staggered, nearly losing her balance, but caught herself just in time.

Behind her, Fetch let out a delighted laugh, the sound echoing through the cavern. “Yes, yes! You hear it, Varin! You hear the bridge’s song!”

Varin didn’t answer, too focused on catching her breath, on steadying herself for the next jump. One step at a time. One beat at a time.

She moved forward, each leap timed with the bridge’s rhythm, each step a test of her will. Fetch followed behind, their movements light and effortless, as if they were merely dancing to some invisible tune.

The bridge groaned and swayed, but it held. Varin’s muscles burned, her heart pounded, but she kept going, kept pushing forward, following the bridge’s song. The end seemed impossibly far, but with each step, each beat, it grew closer, the distant edge slowly coming into view.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Varin’s hooves touched solid ground. She collapsed to her knees, her legs trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She made it. Somehow, she made it.

Fetch stepped off the bridge behind her, their expression one of quiet satisfaction. “The bridge chose you, Varin. You listened to its song.”

Varin looked up at them, too exhausted to speak, but she nodded. Fetch had been right. Again.

As she lay there, trying to catch her breath, she couldn’t help but wonder what other trials awaited them in this dungeon. But for now, she was just grateful to be alive, to have survived the Bridge of Ember.

And as she glanced back at Fetch, who was now humming softly to themselves, she couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for the eccentric adventurer. Annoying as they are, they know this place better than anyone.

Varin pushed herself to her hooves, her legs still shaking but stronger now. “Let’s keep moving,” she said, her voice hoarse but resolute. “We’ve got a dungeon to conquer.”

Fetch nodded, their eyes twinkling with that same eccentric amusement. “Onward, onward! The dungeon awaits, and so do the dreams. But tread lightly, Varin. The dreams have teeth.”

Varin didn’t bother asking what that meant. She just steeled her resolve, and followed Fetch into the shadows ahead, ready for whatever came next.