seconds, I think I can catch my balance, and then…I realize I can’t.
Rhys shouts, telling me something, but I have no idea what.
Before I fall into the rift, I drop to all fours, clinging to the log for dear life. The world sways around me, and I clench my eyes shut.
“No, Rhys!” Lewis hollers. “You don’t have a harness!”
That catches my attention.
I manage to glance over my shoulder and find my knight just about to step onto the log.
“NO,” I hiss, breathing hard. “I can do this. You stay back.”
Rhys pauses, his eyes wide with worry. I’ve never seen him wear the expression, and I almost choke.
“You can do it, Amalia,” Braith says from the other side. “Just crawl. There’s a lot less of you than me—you’ll be fine.”
I swallow a panicked laugh and creep forward. The rough bark digs into my hands, and the natural curve of the log makes it difficult to walk my knees along.
But I make it another foot, then a yard.
“You’ve got it,” Tryndon coaxes. “Just a little bit further.”
And I believe him—I can do this.
Suddenly, the wail becomes louder, and a harsh wind rises from the Chasm, grasping my hair and sending it flying about my face. It tugs at my clothes and pulls at me, almost as if it’s trying to yank me into its depths.
Rhys yells something from behind me, but his voice is lost in the wind.
I cling to the log, waiting for the unnatural gust to subside, but something terrifying catches my attention. The log begins to shift under me, unable to withstand the invisible attack.
I need to get across now.
Fueled by sheer terror, I push myself up, desperately glad my skirt isn’t here to get in the way, and sprint the last few feet, leaping to the other side and crashing on my side once I reach the ground.
Several sets of hands grasp my arms and shoulders, yanking me away from the rift’s edge.
I made it.
I turn, yanking my hair from my face just in time to see the log shift and pull away from Rhys, Braith, and Morgan, who attempt to hold it in place.
“NO!” I yell as it finally escapes them.
Time seems to still as the log tumbles into the rift.
And then, as if its task is complete, the wind stops. The wail becomes a hair-raising, unnatural cackle before it fades completely.
Rhys is trapped on the other side, and our light is almost gone.
I turn and grasp hold of Tryndon’s shoulder. “What are we going to do?”
The knight’s face is blank with shock.
Across the rift, Rhys paces. Though I can just see him through the dark mist, I can tell he’s plotting something.
“Throw me the harness,” he finally calls. “But first, wrap a length of the rope around a boulder on that side.”
“What are you thinking?” Morgan demands.
“I’m going to jump.”
“You can’t jump that!” Tryndon exclaims. “Are you mad?”
“Probably.”
“You’ll never make it,” Braith says. “Rhys, it’s impossible.”
“If I don’t, you’ll have to pull me up—whatever you do, don’t lose the rope. I don’t wish to spend my last days hanging in the middle of the Chasm.”
It suddenly dawns on me that if Rhys falls, and our section of rope slips past us, we wouldn’t be able to reach him. He’d be suspended from the wrong side of the rift.
“Days?” Tryndon says, calmer now that he’s warming to the idea. “You’re optimistic. I’d bet good money something would eat you before morning.”
The men let out nervous laughs, but a cry escapes me. I turn away, refusing to let Rhys see my distress.
Braith wraps the middle of the rope around a huge boulder, and then Morgan heaves the harness across the Chasm. Rhys catches it easily and then steps into it, adjusting the straps.
“Ready?” Morgan calls.
“Ready enough.” With that, Rhys walks back as far as the rope will allow, disappearing into the thick fog.
When he comes into view again, he’s sprinting at full speed, arms moving at his side, expression dark and determined.
I hold my breath, praying he’ll make it. And then he leaps.
I think he’s going to make it.
He’s going to make it.
And then I realize the jump was slightly short. The men yell and crowd around the ledge as Rhys misses his target.
As he falls, he just manages to grasp hold of a rock jutting from the canyon wall about ten feet down. His body slams against the rocky shelf. He slides for a terrifying second and then catches another solid rock, this time holding firm.
“Help me