“First question. Tell me the name of the one who first wore the Crown of Unity.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “Wait… the first King?”

He glanced at Bjorn, who gave a helpless shrug. This wasn’t just a history question. It was ancient lore. Rowan’s thoughts spun fast. The King ruled for a thousand years, but his name was never written down on purpose.

Rowan stepped forward. His voice was steady now. “His name was never passed down. He chose to erase it so that no one could claim the Crown for themselves.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then the guardian’s shield glowed with a soft, icy light.

“That is correct.”

Bjorn grinned. “One down. Not bad.”

Before either of them could relax, the guardian raised its sword again. The red glow from the lava below shimmered across the curved blade.

“Second question. I have no tongue but speak truth. I vanish if you name me. What am I?”

Bjorn scratched the back of his head. “Okay, that’s… creepy.”

Rowan repeated it quietly. “No tongue… speaks truth… disappears when you say it…”

Bjorn muttered, “A shadow?”

Rowan shook his head. “No. That doesn’t speak.”

Bjorn’s eyes lit up. “Wait! A secret!”

The moment the word left his mouth, the bridge pulsed with light. The lava below gurgled, and the planks beneath their feet steadied. 

The guardian lowered its sword slightly.

“Wisdom in instinct.”

Bjorn punched the air. “Yes! Two for two, baby!”

Rowan smiled. “Nice one.”

The guardian stepped forward. Its glowing eyes narrowed, and its sword gleamed brighter. The heat from the lava rose, and the red aurora above curled tighter in the sky.

“Third question. What burns with no flame, yet devours all?”

Rowan didn’t hesitate.

“Time!”

The echo of his voice faded into the night. The guardian stood still for a heartbeat, then suddenly raised its sword and slashed through one of the bridge ropes. With a sharp snap, the bridge lurched sideways, a plank gave way beneath Rowan’s boots, and he slipped with a startled cry.

“Rowan!” Bjorn grabbed his arm and pulled him back just in time. The bridge swung wildly, creaking and twisting in the wind as it hung from just three ropes now.

Rowan gripped the side rope. “But I thought… wasn’t that right?”

The guardian’s voice was colder now. “Quick answers are not always true ones.”

Bjorn narrowed his eyes and stepped in front of Rowan. “Alright then. What’s next?”

Then the guardian’s voice spoke once more. “Final question. What flows forward, yet knows where it began?”

This time, Rowan didn’t answer right away. He didn’t even speak. He was still shaking, but not from fear. It was something more profound. A weight in his chest. A pressure in his mind. The kind of feeling that came when something truly mattered.

“A riverstone,” he said softly. “It flows forward… but it always remembers where it came from.”

The guardian lowered its sword. “Even answers carved in stone must be earned.”

The shield on its arm flared with light. The snowflake symbol at its center glowed bright blue, and a full circle of light formed around it, spinning once before fading.

“You may pass.”

All around them, the shimmer began to pulse. The red aurora above melted into clouds. The sky shifted back to blue. The lava below cooled and turned to river water again, and the cracked mountains softened into snow-covered peaks. Wind rushed through the canyon, and the bridge stopped swaying.

Bjorn exhaled hard, slouching. “Whoa. That was intense. But hey, three out of four questions right? That’s basically a passing grade.”

Rowan laughed and shook his head. “That’s not how tests work.”

Bjorn grinned. “Good thing I’m not trying to be king, then.”

Their boots crunched onto solid ground as they stepped off the bridge. Dust and snow covered the path, and a few icy leaves fluttered at the edge of the trail. Rowan looked back one last time. The shimmer had vanished completely. The bridge looked ordinary again. But they both knew what they had seen.

Ahead of them, a wooden post stood in the snow, its boards weathered and cracked:

← Stormreach Village
↑ Stormreach Peaks
→ Stonehaven

Rowan laid a hand on the arrow toward the Peaks. The wood was icy beneath his touch. His eyes lifted to the mountains rising sharply against the sky. Clouds curled around their white crowns, hiding whatever secrets lay within.