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The knight’s heart pounded as he stared across the jagged chasm separating him from the crumbling tower where his beloved princess was imprisoned. Shadows coiled around its spire like serpents, and her faint cries echoed through the sulfurous air. Every second counted—the villains’ ritual would claim her life at moonrise. To reach her, he had to conquer the abyss below, its depths swallowing the light. Scattered stones and splintered wood littered the cliffs—remnants of collapsed bridges, warnings of the cost of haste. Survival demanded more than courage; it required cunning. Each bridge he built had to hold. One misaligned plank, one frayed rope, and the abyss would devour him, leaving her fate sealed. He scavenged the terrain—aged oak beams lodged between boulders, iron nails rusted but sturdy, vines thick enough to bind a dragon’s jaws. Every resource mattered. The first gap loomed: narrow but treacherous, winds howling like vengeful spirits. He lashed timber across the divide, testing each knot until the wood refused to tremble. Success. But the next gorge was wider, its edges crumbling. Here, he anchored ropes to stone pillars, weaving a lattice of support beneath the walkway. A wrong step would send all crashing down. His hands bled, his muscles screamed, but her voice pushed him forward—softer now, desperate. Moonlight crept higher. The final bridge spanned a void so deep it seemed to pierce the world’s core. No margin for error. He reforged shattered chains into cables, braced the deck with pillars driven into the cliffside, and scattered caltrops behind him to slow pursuers. As the bridge settled, he hesitated—not from fear, but calculation. One breath. Then he ran, the structure groaning underfoot. Planks cracked but held. The tower gates exploded inward, steel ringing as he cut down the cultists chanting over her bound form. Her hand found his, warm and alive. Together, they fled across the bridges he’d built—each one a testament to a love that refused to falter. Let the abyss rage. Their path held.
