Chapter 8: The Bridge to Nowhere
If there was any place that held answers, it was the last place Zoey had been seen.
The old bridge.
By the time we arrived, the sky had darkened. The bridge stretched over a shallow, dried-up riverbed, its wooden planks worn with age.
Zoey stood at the edge, staring down. Her expression was unreadable.
"This is it," she murmured.
I stepped beside her. "Do you remember anything?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she took a slow step forward—then another.
And then—
The air around us shifted.
The temperature dropped. The wind stopped. And suddenly—
I wasn't standing on the bridge anymore.
I was watching it.
Like an outsider looking in.
And Zoey was there.
She was standing on the edge, looking down at the riverbed below. Her shoulders were shaking.
And then—
A shadow moved behind her.
I wanted to scream, to warn her, but my voice was trapped in my throat.
The figure—tall, inhuman, wrong—reached out.
And then—
Zoey fell.
I gasped as the vision shattered, the world snapping back into place.
I stumbled backward, my breath ragged.
Zoey turned to me, her face pale.
"You saw it, didn't you?" she whispered.
I nodded. "It… pushed you."
Zoey swallowed hard. "I don't remember that."
A sick realization settled in my chest.
Someone—something—had wanted her gone.
And now, it was trying to make sure she never came back.