The imposter disintegrates.
He crumbles from the heart outward, the illusion collapsing into dust and charcoal ash, folding in on itself like burnt paper. The pieces scatter at my feet, carried off by the faint breath of the Hollow’s wind.
Only then does my heart start to beat again.
Slow and painful.
But certain.
I chose right.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Oh, thank the Gods,” I breathe, my hands flying to his cheeks, needing the solid warmth of him beneath my palms.
He’s alive.
I chose right.
Relief crashes through me so hard my knees almost give out, and all I can do is hold him tightly.
Ryder leans into my touch, eyes dark and searching, like he’s seeing me—reallyseeing me—for the first time since we set foot in this place. “I’m sorry for what I said. You know I didn’t mean any of it—”
But before I can finish, a low creaking rolls through the forest, followed by a tremor that rattles the ground beneath us. The trees shudder, then slowly pull apart, bending away as though obeying some ancient command. The forest opens its ribs and reveals a narrow path—one that leads straight to the bridge Ziek warned us about.
Sunlight spills through the break in the canopy, brushing across my skin. It feels like water after a long drought, soaking into me, warming me. But the sight of the sun makes my stomach twist. Its glow is thin, washed-out… a tired version of the brilliance I remember. As if even the sky is running out of strength.
The bridge waits ahead—long, narrow, and suspended over a cavernous drop that swallows sound and light alike.
“I can’t believe it!” River exclaims, lifting his face to the open sky, arms spread wide as though he could scoop the sunlight right out of the air. “We made it… We actually made it!”
“You might not want to start your victory dance just yet,” I say, swallowing hard as my gaze drifts to the shadow looming beyond the bridge. His gaze follows mine.
Mourn Peak.
It rises so high my eyes can’t track its full height; the summit vanishes into a ring of clinging clouds. The entire mountain seems to absorb the light instead of reflecting it, its surface dark and glassy—like it’s carved from obsidian, polished by centuries of storms. A cold shiver scratches down my spine. Something is watching in that darkness. Something is waiting.
My steps are more hesitant than relieved, Oriah’s warning looping through my mind like a curse:Mourn Peak will deceive you.
When we reach the bridge, the full horror of it settles in my stomach. It stretches farther than I realised—long, thin, and hanging low, as if barely tethered to the cliffs on either side. The wind brushes past, and the entire structure sways, groaning under its own age. The creaking is loud enough to echo.
Half-rotted planks line the path, some split clean in two, others missing entirely, leaving dark gaps that reveal exactly what waits below. I must place each step with surgical precision, even my breath might tip the balance.
I dare a glance over the edge—and immediately regret it. A violent river churns beneath us, frothy from colliding with jagged black rocks. The current is so fast it looks hungry.
If I fall, I’m dead.
There’s no two ways about it.
“Are you sure about this?” Ryder’s hand closes around my arm, firm but trembling, his eyes searching mine for even thesmallest flicker of certainty. He’s scared—of the bridge, of the mountain, of losing me—but trying so hard not to show it.
I force a small smile, even though my stomach is tight enough to snap.
“We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”
He stops me before I can take another step, pulling me in with a sudden, desperate urgency. His arm wraps around my waist, grounding me, and then his mouth crashes into mine. The kiss is trembling, almost frantic—like he’s terrified that if he lets go, the Hollow or the mountain or this cursed place will swallow me whole.
Like he needs to feel me alive against him, just for a second longer.
