Erik's already on it, dropping his bag and grabbing the rope we brought. We tie the ends together, creating a makeshift lifeline that we pray will be long enough to span the distance between us and Rhyland.
It takes a few tries, but finally, Rhyland manages to catch the rope's end. He ties it off securely to the former bridge's column, anchoring it with a knot that could probably hold the weight of a small elephant.
Erik does the same on our end.
"Now what?" I ask, my voice breathy and shaky as I've just run a marathon through a quicksand field.
Rhyland's answer is so matter-of-fact it's almost infuriating. "You'll have to shimmy across," he says like it's the most natural thing in the world.
I blink, convinced I must have misheard him. "What?" I ask again, my brain struggling to process the sheer insanity of what he's suggesting.
He can't possibly expect me to tightrope walk across that chasm like some circus acrobat, can he?
"Little Huntress," Erik chimes in, his tone infuriatingly calm. "You will be fine. Go first, and I will be right behind you."
Oh. My. God. They're actually serious about this. They want me to fucking shimmy across, with nothing but a flimsy rope and a prayer standing between me and a one-way ticket to splat city.
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. My palms are sweating, and my heart is racing so fast I'm half-convinced it's trying to beat its way out of my chest.
I look at the rope, then back at Rhyland and Erik. They're both watching me expectantly, waiting for me to sprout wings and fly across the gap.
"You've got to be shitting me," I mutter, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound tough. "I'm not a fucking tightrope walker, guys. I'm a scientist, not a Cirque du Soleil performer."
But even as the words leave my mouth, I know I don't have a choice. It's either shimmy across the rope or turn back, and there's no way in hell I'm letting a little thing like certain death stop me from getting to that lyre.
With shaking hands, I grab onto the rope, my knuckles turning white from the force of my grip. I can feel the rough fibers digging into my palms, and for a moment, I'm convinced I will lose my nerve and turn back.
But then I think of Mirella, trapped in her silent prison. I think of Aquaria, cursed to live under the tyrannical rule of a power-hungry queen. And I think of Rhyland, my mate, love, and everything.
I can't let them down. I won't.
So, with a deep breath, I dangle, and with trembling hands, I wrap my ankles securely around the rope, the rough fibers biting into my skin through the fabric of my pants. My fingers grip the rope so tightly that I feel the circulation starting to cut off, but I don't dare loosen my hold.
Here goes nothing.
"You've got this, baby," Rhyland's voice is like a soothing balm, wrapping around me like a warm, reassuring embrace. "I'm right here; just keep coming to me, Angel."
I take a deep, shaky breath, steeling myself for what I am about to do.
And then, I start to move. Inch by agonizing inch, I pull myself across the chasm, my heart lodged so firmly in my throat that I'm half-convinced it's trying to make a break for it and flee the scene entirely.
My hair cascades toward the yawning abyss like a chestnut waterfall as I shimmy across the rope upside down, feeling like the world's most terrified sloth.
"This is fine," I mutter through gritted teeth, trying not to think about the fact that I'm dangling over certain doom like the world's most reluctant bat. "Totally normal. Just your average Tuesday, hanging out... literally."
I inch forward, my arms and core muscles screaming in protest. Who needs a gym when you've got life-or-death situations to keep you fit?
"If I make it out of this alive," I grunt, my face probably as red as a tomato from all the blood rushing to my head, "I'm never complaining about planks again."
The rope sways and bounces with each movement, sending fresh jolts of terror racing down my spine like icy fingers trailing along my vertebrae. It's like being on the world's most horrifying amusement park ride, except there's no safety harness, no emergency stop button, and the only thing waiting for me at the bottom is a one-way ticket to oblivion.
But I keep going, refusing to let the fear consume me. Hand over hand, I shimmy my way across the chasm, my eyes locked on Rhyland's reassuring presence on the other side.
The darkness below seems to call out to me, its whispers growing louder and more insistent with each passing second. It promises relief and an end to the terror and thestruggle. All I have to do is let go, give in to the pull of gravity, and allow myself to be swallowed whole by the abyss.
But I won't do it. I can't. Not when Rhyland is waiting for me, his arms outstretched, ready to catch and pull me back from the brink.
So I keep shimmying and pushing forward, even as my muscles scream in protest and my lungs burn with the effort of dragging in each ragged breath. The rope bites into my palms, leaving angry red welts in its wake, but I barely feel the pain. All that matters is reaching the other side, closing the distance between myself and Rhyland until I'm safely in his arms again.
