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“No…” Aurora crumbled to her knees, burying her face in her hands. “No, no, no!”

Tristan knelt beside her and placed a comforting hand on her trembling shoulder. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “We’ll find a way to cross. We won’t let the shifting nature of this realm deter us.”

Aurora raised her tear-streaked face, her eyes searching his for what seemed like a glimmer of hope. “How?” she asked.

“Didn’t you say that this world is malleable, that it adapts to our perceptions?” he asked, his voice brimming with possibility. “Then why can’t we will a completed bridge into existence?”

Aurora’s brows furrowed, skepticism etching its way across her features. “If it were that easy, don’t you think I would have done that by now? The Dreamworld may be unpredictable, but it does adhere to its own set of rules and logic.”

“Perhaps…” Tristan nodded. “But it’s worth a try.”

Tristan rose to his feet, then extended his hand toward the abyss, envisioning a bridge materializing before him. With every ounce of his being, he willed the illusion into existence, pouring his determination and hope into the haze surrounding them.

“What are you doing?” Aurora asked, shaking her head.

Tristan blew out a breath. “That,” he said, pointing toward the space where the previous bridge once stood.

Aurora’s breath hitched at the sight before her. There, spanning the distance to the other side, stood a brand-new bridge. It was so resplendent that it seemed to shimmer with a life of its own. The bridge had elaborate carved designs, glinting with hues of gold and silver, its path stretching all the way to the base of the tower.

“You did it…” Aurora breathed as she rose from her kneeling position, her eyes tracing the contours of the bridge. “It’s... it’s incredible.”

Tristan’s lips curled into a triumphant smile as he stood beside her. “Shall we?” he asked, extending his hand toward her.

Aurora met his gaze, a fire reigniting within her eyes. With a newfound sense of purpose, she placed her hand in his. Together, they stepped onto the bridge. As they reached the other side, Tristan’s eyes fixated on the towering door that guarded the entrance to the golden tower. A surge of anticipation coursed through his veins, urging him to unlock the mysteries that lay within.

He reached out to grasp the doorknob, only to find it locked. He turned to Aurora and found her looking down a deep well in the middle of the yard.

“Find anything?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Aurora said, the tip of her fingers brushing an engraving etched onto the stone of the well. “I think it’s a riddle.”

Tristan joined her by the well as she read the engraved words aloud.

“In a golden tower, where secrets reside, A golden coin, a mystery to hide. Whispers abound, in hushed tones they say, The coin holds secrets, concealed away.”

Aurora looked at Tristan. “What do you think it means?” she asked.

Tristan wasn’t sure, but as he looped the words in his mind over and over again, only one thought took hold. “Do you have a gold coin with you?” he asked.

Aurora reached into her satchel and pulled out a gleaming gold coin. Without hesitation, she flung it into the depths of the well. In that instant, a rusty, metal box materialized next to the door, its hinges creaking open.

Aurora sprinted toward the metal box, and Tristan followed after her. Eagerly, they peered inside, allowing him to look over her shoulder.

“A gold ring?” She pulled it out and held it up to the sunlight. It was different from the one she had shown him before. The engraving wasn’t of a bee.

“May I?” Tristan asked, holding out his hand. Aurora placed the ring in his palm, and he held it up to the light to examine it. It was no ordinary piece of jewelry. It bore the markings of a parchment seal. “There should have been a small parchment roll with this,” he said, looking at Aurora. “Could Ella have taken it?”

Aurora shook her head. “No. Ella didn't come here seeking Midas. She wouldn’t even have seen any of this.”

Confusion knitted Tristan’s brows together. “Then who could’ve taken it if there was no bridge there before?”

Aurora’s gaze shifted toward a distant mountain peak. “Someone with wings,” she grumbled.

“Who would that be?” Tristan asked.

Aurora’s voice carried a hint of annoyance as she uttered, “A vengeful fairy.”

He glanced up, and a chill ran down his spine as a dark shadow cast over them, obscuring the light of the sun. Aurora’s gaze turned skyward, her eyes widening in alarm.