The stairwell fell away into darkness.
Aric, Lyra, and the bell-eyed child descended as fast as they dared, boots ringing faintly on stone. The air grew colder, metallic, and wet, tasting of rust and salt. Far below the City of Hanging Echoes, the abyss breathed. Each exhale stirred the hair on Lyra's arms.
The spiral stairs ended at an archway of corroded bronze. Beyond it, mist coiled like smoke. Chains as thick as tree trunks stretched from tower to tower, supporting a labyrinth of narrow walkways and suspended platforms. Dim lanterns hung from some of the chains, but most of the light came from phosphorescent runes etched into the iron, pulsing like heartbeats.
"This," the child whispered, "is the Lower Bridges."
Lyra peered down. The abyss opened beneath them like an inverted sky. "It's… huge."
Aric's eyes flicked across the web of chains. 'Every echo dumped here. Every secret. A perfect place for an ambush.' Aloud he said, "Stay close. Don't speak louder than you have to."
"Why?" Lyra whispered back.
"Because here, sound is weight."
She frowned. "Weight?"
He stepped onto the nearest walkway — a ribbon of metal woven from countless fine chains. It thrummed under his boot. "Every step, every whisper, adds to the load. Make enough noise, and the bridge breaks under its own echo."
Lyra glanced at the abyss. "That's comforting."
"Strategic," he said with a small smile.
They moved carefully, their breaths shallow. Whispers drifted through the mist — fragments of words, broken laughter, sobbing. Some hung in the air like cobwebs before dissolving. Lyra shivered. "What are those?"
"Discarded echoes," Aric murmured. "Contracts, confessions, promises. Everything left behind above ends up here."
The child's bell-eyes glowed faintly. "Some of them bite."
As if on cue, a faint whisper slid across Lyra's neck like a cold finger. She swatted it away, heart pounding. "I hate this place."
Aric chuckled under his breath. "You said that about the Vault too."
"That was different. It didn't feel like something was listening."
"It was," he said simply.
A deep groan vibrated through the chains. The lanterns swayed. Lyra froze. "What was that?"
The child looked down into the mist. "It wakes."
Aric followed its gaze — and saw movement.
At first it was only a ripple in the grey, like wind over water. Then a coil of chain as thick as a tower slid upward, dripping mist. Rusted bells dangled from it, each one cracked but ringing softly. The coil vanished again, only for another to appear farther off.
Lyra whispered, "What is that?"
"The Chain-Serpent," the child said. "Old as the Domain. It sleeps under the city and eats broken echoes. The fragment woke it."
Aric's mind raced. 'Of course. My echo anchor fooled the Chime Lord, but it also sent a false resonance into the abyss. This thing felt it.'
Another groan rolled up from below, deeper this time. The walkways trembled.
Lyra clutched the railing. "It's coming closer."
"Move," Aric said.
They hurried along the narrow bridge. Every step made the chains hum. The mist thickened until it was like wading through breath. Behind them came the sound of bells shattering, one after another.
Then the traps began.
A whisper coiled around Lyra's ankle like a thread and pulled. She yelped, kicking it off. The railing beside her turned to glass, reflecting her face with a twisted grin before shattering into dust. The walkway dipped under their weight.
"Sound's destabilising the structure," Aric muttered. "Stay quiet. Step where I step."
They crept forward. Another echo swirled up — a child's cry in a language Lyra didn't know. It condensed into a dark hand reaching for the bell-eyed child. Aric flicked his wrist; a tiny shard of the Mirror hissed through the air and cut the hand. It dissolved with a hiss.
"Thanks," the child whispered.
"Don't mention it," Aric said. 'Literally.'
The serpent's groan became a roar. Chains shuddered violently. A massive coil rose from the mist only a few bridges away. This time Lyra saw it clearly: links upon links knotted into scales, bells dangling like teeth. Where a head should have been was a hollow bell large enough to swallow a tower, its interior a swirling blackness full of voices screaming inward.
Her stomach turned. "That's—"
"Keep moving," Aric snapped.
They reached a junction where three bridges met. One led deeper into the Lower Bridges, the other toward a cluster of collapsed platforms, the third downward into thicker mist.
Lyra hesitated. "Which way?"
Aric pulled the crescent chime from his coat. It pulsed faintly, pointing toward the downward path. "This way."
Lyra eyed it. "How do you know it's safe?"
"I don't. But it's tuned to the Chime Lord. He probably built a resonance path out."
She muttered, "Nice of him to include a map."
He smirked. "Or a trap."
"Comforting."
Another coil slammed into a bridge behind them, snapping it like a thread. Echoes burst outward, a deafening chorus of cries and laughs. The serpent roared, bells clanging. They ran.
The downward path was narrower and steeper, the chain underfoot vibrating so hard Lyra's teeth chattered. She clutched the child, whose bell-eyes were wide. "It's right behind us!"
Aric lifted the chime. "Cover your ears."
"What—"
He struck it against the chain. A low note spread outward like oil on water. The chain's vibration dampened. Their own footsteps became muted, almost weightless. The serpent's roar faltered for a moment, confused.
Lyra blinked. "You could do that the whole time?!"
"I just figured it out," Aric said.
"You—" She bit back a laugh. "You're impossible."
"Strategist," he corrected with a grin.
They hurried on, cloaked in the chime's resonance. The mist around them thinned slightly. For a moment Lyra thought they might actually escape.
Then the serpent breached.
It rose from the abyss directly beneath them, its body coiling upward like a mountain of chains. Bells burst from its sides, shattering in showers of sparks. Its hollow head tilted, and the scream inside it spilled outward — a sound so deep it rattled the metal of the walkway and made Lyra's vision blur.
The chime in Aric's hand cracked.
"Oh no," he muttered.
The serpent's chain-tail lashed out, striking the walkway behind them. Metal exploded. They stumbled forward. Another lash ahead cut off the path. They were trapped on a swaying section of chain, abyss on both sides.
Lyra's heart pounded. "We're dead."
"Not yet," Aric said. He scanned the surroundings. The serpent coiled, ready to strike. The child pointed toward a dark opening in the cliffside — a vertical shaft rimmed with cracked bells, like a giant well.
"The Sound Well," it whispered. "Old echoes go there. It leads out. But it's forbidden."
Aric met Lyra's eyes. She shook her head frantically. "We don't even know where it goes!"
"Better than here," he said.
The serpent lunged.
Aric grabbed Lyra's hand and the child's arm. "Jump!"
They sprinted to the edge of the broken bridge and hurled themselves into the Sound Well just as the serpent's hollow head slammed into the spot they'd been standing. The scream followed them down, a spiral of shattered echoes and rust.
They plunged into darkness.