The bridge groaned, a long, high-pitched scream of tearing metal that vibrated straight through Daniel's boots.
Right between his lead foot and Finn's retreating heel, a black fissure opened in the iron. Small sparks rained down into the dark abyss as the structural integrity of the span snapped.
The construct of melted blades behind them didn't care.
It dragged its white-hot, armless torso across the metal, leaving a glowing trail of scorched iron in its wake. It was five paces away. The heat radiating off it was so intense that the hem of Lily's cloak began to singe, smoking softly in the damp air.
"Daniel!" Lily shouted over the deafening roar of grinding metal.
Daniel didn't look back at the construct. He looked at Finn.
Finn stood on the far side of the widening gap, his white, milky eyes reflecting the orange glow of the approaching molten steel. He didn't look like an enemy making a stand. He looked like an observer watching a predictable experiment run its course.
"Cross," Finn said flatly. His voice barely carried over the noise, but the words were crystal clear. "Or let the heat melt what's left of your spine."
The fissure widened to four feet. Five feet.
The section of the bridge behind them was tilting, sinking slowly toward the abyss under the immense weight of the constructs.
"Jump!" Daniel roared.
He grabbed Lily by the shoulder of her tunic and lunged forward, throwing his entire weight across the growing divide.
They hit the far side of the iron bridge hard.
Daniel slammed shoulder-first into the cold metal, rolling to absorb the impact. Lily landed right beside him, her boots skidding on the slick surface before her hand shot out, her fingers digging into the narrow edge to stop herself from sliding over the side.
Behind them, the near side of the bridge snapped completely.
With a thunderous CRACK that echoed through the entire subterranean vault, the section carrying the constructs detached, plunging straight down into the black fog of the chasm. The glowing orange light of the molten steel faded into the dark, swallowed by the sheer depth of the pit.
Silence reclaimed the cavern.
Daniel dragged himself up, his chest heaving, his mouth tasting of iron and sulfur.
The gray veins on his knuckles were darker now, raised slightly against his skin like thin, corded wires. The pain wasn't sharp; it was a dull, thrumming ache that matched the rhythm of his own pulse.
Beside him, Lily got to her feet, her blade drawn, her breathing ragged.
Finn hadn't moved. He stood ten paces ahead, where the iron bridge finally met the solid stone ledge of the far cavern.
"You made it over," Finn said, his voice entirely devoid of surprise. "Most don't. Most try to turn around and fight the steel."
"We aren't most," Daniel gritted out, wiping a mixture of sweat and gray ash from his forehead.
"No," Finn agreed softly. He turned and walked off the bridge, stepping onto the dark, smooth stone of the far ledge. "You're worse. You're stubborn enough to think there's a way out of these mountains."
They followed him off the metal ribbon, leaving the broken chasm behind.
The new chamber was vastly different from the vault of the monolith. There were no carved walls, no scattered weapons, and no throne.
It was a natural, massive cavern, lit by thousands of tiny, bioluminescent pale blue fungi clinging to the high, arched ceiling like a distorted reflection of the night sky.
In the center of the room sat a small camp.
A simple ring of stones held cold, gray embers. Beside it lay a neatly folded bedroll made of coarse wool, a wooden water bucket, and several drying racks hung with salted meat that didn't look like it came from any animal Daniel recognized.
It was almost human. A mundane, quiet campsite buried deep inside the heart of a nightmare.
"You live here?" Lily asked, her blade lowering an inch, her eyes taking in the quiet room.
Finn walked to the cold fire pit and sat down on a flat rock, resting his forearms on his knees. His bare hands—fused with that pale, bone-like iron—hung casually between his legs.
"I exist here," Finn corrected. He picked up a small wooden stick and began poking at the dead ash in the pit. "The mountain doesn't let you sleep much, but it doesn't let you die either. It's a slow arrangement."
Daniel stepped forward, stopping a few paces from the circle of stones. He kept his grip firm on his hilt, though he didn't draw the weapon fully.
"Bill sent us," Daniel said, his voice hard. "He wants to know what happened to the expedition. He wants to know why you never came back."
Finn looked up from the ash, those white, sightless eyes fixing directly on Daniel's face.
"Bill knows," Finn said quietly. "He's known for ten years. He just needs fresh boys to come up here and confirm that the lock is still holding."