The last of the Grief-Eater's misty form dissolved into nothingness. The oppressive psychic pressure over the chasm was gone, leaving a clean, profound silence in its wake. Rhys and Emma stood on the slippery stepping stones of the true Bridge of Sighs, both of them utterly drained, mentally and emotionally. But they had won. More than that, they had learned a vital lesson. They were stronger together.
Rhys looked at Emma. She was pale and leaning heavily on the stone railing of the bridge, but the empty, sorrowful look in her eyes was gone, replaced by a familiar, steely resolve. He walked over and offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation, her grip firm.
"Good work, partner," he said, the words feeling natural and true.
"You too," she replied, a small, tired smile touching her lips.
