The bridge lurched again. Tyron lost his balance. For a heartbeat, his face was pale against the storm — eyes wild, hand reaching for her — then he fell.

"General!" the commander's cry tore through the storm, only to be swallowed whole by the roaring wind. Tyron's body vanished into the white fury below, consumed by the churning abyss.

Lara's breath caught, but she didn't hesitate. Her hand darted to her thigh, where a slender flap concealed a hidden blade — Hephastus's work, forged from steel so thin it gleamed like a whisper. The edge could slice silk midair.

She slashed through the nearest rope that supported the planks. The bridge shuddered violently, cords whipping and snapping beneath the force of her strike.

The entire structure was unraveling — rope splitting, the planks unraveling one by one into the void. Lara sprinted, every muscle screaming, boots pounding across slick wood that shifted beneath her weight. Lightning split the sky in jagged veins of light, illuminating the chaos behind her — the bridge collapsing in a storm of splinters and screams.

The final plank gave way just as her feet left it. For one breathless second, she was flying — then crashing.

Her body slammed against the rocky ledge. Sharp pain exploded across her ribs, but her fingers caught on a thick root jutting from the cliff face. Gritting her teeth, Lara hauled herself upward, rain lashing her face, the storm howling its fury all around her.

She rolled onto solid ground, chest heaving, drenched to the bone. Behind her, the bridge was gone — only torn ropes danced wildly in the tempest, like severed veins.

For a long moment, she lay still, listening to the storm. The thunder rumbled across the mountains like a growling beast.

On the other edge of the cliff, Zuran soldiers were desperately clinging to the broken bridge, cursing her name.

Lara pushed herself up, wet strands of hair clinging to her cheeks, her wrists raw and bleeding from the rope burns. Her spirit, though, burned brighter than ever.

She turned toward the shadowed forests of Zura — an endless expanse of darkness and danger. Somewhere beyond those trees, her true enemy still drew breath.

She took one steady breath and vanished into the storm.

Meanwhile, far to the south, rain poured in relentless sheets over Mount Etna. The forest canopy did little to soften the downpour; every leaf drenched, every branch groaned beneath the storm's weight.

"Your Majesty, Father, we should seek shelter and wait until the storm abates." Asael urged, pulling his soaked raincoat tighter around his shoulders.

The raincoat was the latest product released by the Gabriela Guild at the start of the rainy season.

"Hmmm" Alaric nodded. "It is dark, and it would be more dangerous to pursue them."

Logan emerged from the mist, boots squelching in the mud. "We found a cave up ahead," he reported, rain dripping from the brim of his hood. "Large enough for all of us."

The Phoenix Legion and Zen Warriors moved quickly, their armor clinking as they unpacked supplies, torches sputtering against the wind.

But Alaric lingered at the mouth of the cave, his silhouette outlined by the flash of lightning. He gazed out at the storm-choked sky, his shoulders hunched, fists trembling at his sides.

"Where are you, my love?" he whispered into the wind. "Please stay safe…"

Behind him, Jethru's calm voice broke through the storm's growl. "Do not fear. My disciple is strong and cunning. Storm or not — she'll survive."

Alaric turned, anguish flickering in his eyes. "I know her strength, Master…but there are so many of them."

Jethru's jaw tightened as he stroked his beard. He did not show it, but he was also worried when he counted the boot marks left on the track.

"Lara is wise. She will outwit them."

"The rain will wash away her scent." Alaric looked at the blackness outside. "Gray and Snow won't be able to track her."

Jethru's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "You underestimate her. My disciple leaves traces not even the rain can hide."

He looked toward the southwest, the lightning briefly revealing his weathered face. "We will find her. Rest tonight. We move at first light. There's only one place the Zuran soldiers could have taken her."

Alaric's gaze sharpened. "Where?"

"The hanging bridge," Jethru said, voice low. "The border between Zura and Northem."

...

On the other side of the river, deep within the heart of the Zuran mountains, Lara stumbled upon a shallow cave carved into the slope, a little more than a hollow in the rock, but enough shelter from the raging storm. The wind howled through the jungle like a wounded beast, driving sheets of rain that lashed against her back as she worked.

She gathered what she could — a few slender branches, broad green leaves slick with water — and wove them into a crude barrier at the cave's mouth. It wasn't much, but it blocked the worst of the rain.

Inside, the air was damp, smelling of moss and earth. Her soaked clothes clung to her skin, and she could feel the tremor in her fingers as she pulled a small packet of jerky from the side pocket of her jacket. She tore off a piece and chewed slowly, tasting salt and smoke. It wasn't much, but she had learned long ago never to waste anything — or any chance to survive.

A gust of wind slipped through the gaps in the leaves, cold enough to sting. Lara shivered. She drew her knees close to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. The steady rhythm of rain against rock lulled her eyes closed.

And then — that strange pull in her chest. A memory, long buried, surfaced unbidden.

It was August, when storms were at their strongest.

She was ten again. A different storm, a different forest. The air was thick with the smell of mud and gasoline.

"Get down from the jeep," her father commanded, his voice clipped and cold over the drumming of rain.

"Father… please don't leave me." Lara's voice trembled. Her tears blended with the rain, tracing clean lines down her muddy face.

"Didn't I tell you never to plead?" His tone cut sharper than the wind. "This is your punishment for weakness."

He tossed a small canvas bag at her feet, then turned the key. The engine roared to life.

"Major," one of the soldiers muttered uneasily from the passenger seat, "is it right to leave her here? It's dark… There are wild animals in these woods."

"She'll live," the Major said flatly. "She must. Softness has no place in our bloodline."

The jeep's taillights vanished into the sheets of rain, leaving her alone — a small figure trembling beneath the weight of thunder and fear.

The other soldier had said nothing more, but in his heart, he cursed the man behind the wheel. What a ruthless father.