"You’ve come upon one of the most famous bridges in the dungeon, long and swinging over a river of lava and seeming to be a mile long. It shows its wear and tear: missing planks and fraying cables make this bridge more treacherous than it once was. Can you make it across?"

---

What a grand sight it was in the tales- the Great Bridge of the Furnace.

Like a snake it moved across the molten landscape, ashen planks swaying high above the river of lava and the basalt pillars below. Even the obsidian spires, reaching upwards like dark teeth, didn't come close to touching the grand bridge. It was a beacon, a sanctuary, to the dungeoneers who reached the volcanic level... At least...

It was some time ago.

Now Crispin and Lunden risked crossing a mere shadow of what the grand bridge once was.

It used to hold adventurers, caravans, and the weight of abundant treasures brought from the depths back towards the levels above. Now it barely looked like it would keep the weight of a single courser- much less two. But, unfortunately, they had to catch up to their party ahead. And that meant crossing.

Lunden was regretting this venture.

"You are... certain this bridge will hold?" Lunden questioned, furry brows raised in a mix of intrigue and worry. Despite their companion's skill and experience, they were not so certain of this particular move...

"I am certain it will hold," Crispin answered, grey hooves beginning to move forward- crossing the planks.

"Both of us?"

"Both of us."

Lunden did not have nearly as much trust, or resolve, as Crispin did. Still, if such a famous dungeoneer thought it could hold them...

With a shake of his head and a snort the heraldic began to follow the other's lead- steps both steady and careful as they began to cross. There would be no turning back once they had gone far enough. And despite the prior hesitation things went well. Aside from a particularly creaky plank here and there the bridge held. What they did not account for, however, was company.

Once the pair had made it halfway something behind them caused the great bridge to creak and sway- unfortunate as it was already perilous enough.

"What on earth...?" Lunden turned to look back, ears raised in curiosity. However, any wondering would be cut short.

"Crispin we need to run!"

Hellhounds, canids of living magma and rocky plating, had followed the duo's scent and began to hunt. Unlike the coursers, the fiery dogs did not have to worry about the liquid fire below or the sway of the old bridge. They were one with the environment and it allowed them to be fearless; they could afford to abandon caution.

As much as the coursers did not want to test the bridge's fragility they were forced to pick up the pace; feet lifting from careful trot to a frantic gallop as the hounds bounded closer with each second. Panic sank in further with each footfall as the great bridge bobbed and swayed beneath the weight of many.

A little further; just a l-

Snap.

One of the bridge's ropes began to pull; the threads were fraying with every step.

"We need to get off of this! Now!" Crispin yelled, urging both himself and Lunden; adrenaline coursing through them as they drew closer and closer to the end of the bridge. The hellhounds remained on their heels, the pack's barking sounding somewhere between boiling magma and a loud bay.

Snap.

More threads began to fray.

With a final push at a full gallop Crispin and Lunden were almost to the end; the final thread snapping as the bridge wobbled beneath frantic footfalls. To make it onto solid ground the coursers had to make a leap of faith- begging that pure willpower would push them far enough from ashen planks to rocky ground.

With a thud they landed, safely. But they weren't out of danger yet.

The hounds were still running, trying to escape the collapsing bridge.

Crispin was quick to nudge Lunden to his feet, the grey getting the blue to move. If the hounds didn't fall with the bridge then they needed to gain ground.

There wasn't a second to spare.