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The Bridge Between Shadows

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I’m standing on a narrow rope bridge, high above a churning, black river. The wind howls like a living thing, pushing me toward the edge. Below, jagged rocks glint like teeth in a monster’s mouth. Every step forward makes the planks creak and sway, and then—somewhere behind me—footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Deliberate. I turn, but the air seems thicker, the world bending, and in the shadows, a figure stands—faceless, yet smiling in a way I can feel inside my chest. My legs refuse to move. The bridge lurches, ropes snapping one by one. There’s nowhere to run.

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