Rowan took a cautious step toward the bridge, the salty wind whipping around him. He hesitated, watching as the waves crashed fiercely against the stone structure. Taking a deep breath, he planted his foot onto the first slab, only for the stone to crack and crumble beneath his weight. Startled, he jumped back just as the chunk of stone fell away, tumbling into the sea below with a splash. He stared down at the churning water, his heart hammering in his chest.

"This place is ancient," he muttered, feeling a growing sense of dread. “What am I even thinking?”

But as he stood there, torn between retreat and curiosity, something unexpected happened. His pendant—the silver coin he’d turned into a necklace—began to glow. It wasn’t the faint, rusty gleam it had in the daylight, but a soft, cool light, pale like moonlight. Startled, Rowan lifted the coin to eye level, squinting as the light pulsed gently, almost as if it were alive.

Then, as if in response, faint, glowing symbols started appearing along the length of the bridge. He blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The runes looked strangely familiar, similar to the ones carved into his coin. They flickered like fireflies, appearing only on certain stones and tracing a faint, glowing path across the bridge.

Rowan leaned forward, studying the marked stones carefully. Testing a theory, he tapped one of the glowing stones with the tip of his shoe. It didn’t budge, remaining firm and steady against his weight. He glanced around, then tried the same with a nearby stone that wasn’t marked. It shifted slightly underfoot, reminding him of the first stone that had crumbled away.

A thrill of excitement shot through him as he realized what this meant. The bridge could only be crossed by stepping on the stones with runes—the glowing marks were guiding him safely across. The other stones were weakened, unstable, but these rune-marked stones seemed to hold steady, as if enchanted to bear weight.

“Alright, then,” Rowan murmured, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement. “Here goes nothing.”

He carefully placed his foot onto the first marked stone, relieved when it held firm. He then moved to the next glowing stone, testing it with a bit of his weight before stepping fully onto it. Slowly, he made his way forward, carefully avoiding the unmarked stones. His heart pounded in his chest with every step, his senses heightened as he focused on the path of faint symbols lighting his way.

The bridge extended far into the sea, the castle looming closer with each step. At one point, a particularly large gap separated two glowing stones. Rowan swallowed, his palms slick with nervous sweat as he measured the distance. Taking a deep breath, he leapt across, his foot landing squarely on the next marked stone. He wobbled for a moment but steadied himself, sighing in relief when it held his weight.

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Step by step, he crossed the precarious bridge, his eyes locked on the ever-nearing castle. The wind howled, and waves crashed against the stones below, spraying mist into the air. Yet, the pale glow from the pendant and the bridge’s runes seemed to guide him onward, illuminating a path that felt both mysterious and strangely welcoming.

Finally, he reached the other side of the bridge, standing before the massive gates of the castle. They were old and weathered, their iron bindings rusty with age. Rowan looked up, marveling at the ancient fortress now towering above him. Up close, it was even more awe-inspiring, with walls that rose high above, lined with narrow, arched windows that were dark and hollow like empty eyes.

Rowan hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the moment sink in. There was no one else here; no one to call out to if things went wrong. It was just him, standing before a castle that felt like it had been waiting centuries for someone to arrive.

Rowan examined the gate more closely, taking in its details. It was imposing and solid, each side reinforced by thick iron rods that connected the both parts of the gate in regular intervals from top to bottom. Yet there was something strange about it—right in the center, an indentation was carved in the shape of a coin, surrounded by faint carvings that looked similar to the runes on his pendant. It looked like a deliberate mold, as though it were waiting for something to complete it.

Rowan frowned, leaning into the heavy gate and giving it a hard push, but it barely budged. He tried pressing and pulling at different points, even shoving with all his weight, but it was useless. Whatever secrets lay inside were locked away tight.

Then his gaze fell on the coin-shaped mold in the gate. He reached for his pendant, feeling its cool weight in his hand. Could it be…? The shape, the runes—everything lined up. Holding his breath, Rowan lifted the pendant to the gate, fitting it neatly into the indentation.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a soft clicking noise echoed from within the door, followed by a series of mechanical clinks and whirs as the iron rods that had held the two doors together slowly began to retract, one by one. Rowan watched in awe as the rods sank back into the gate, each rod retreating with a smooth precision that revealed a hidden craftsmanship, ancient but ingenious.

With the rods retracted, the massive gate released its grip on itself. Rowan felt a rush of excitement, mixed with a hint of nervousness, as he pushed on the door once more. This time, it swung open with a low groan, revealing a dim, stone passageway stretching into the heart of the fortress.

Rowan took a tentative step forward, glancing around as he passed the threshold. The weight of the pendant felt comforting against his chest, as if it had somehow recognized the fortress and guided him here. This wasn’t just an old ruin; it was a place with secrets meant only for those who held the key—or, in this case, the coin.

The cool air inside the fortress was thick with the scent of aged stone and damp earth, carrying with it a strange quiet. With the gate open behind him, he felt a strange sense of anticipation mixed with an uneasy thrill. There was no going back now; he was officially stepping into the unknown.

As Rowan moved further in, his footsteps echoed softly down the passage. The silence felt heavy, punctuated only by the occasional drip of water from some unseen place above. He glanced around at the towering stone walls, noticing faint engravings along the surface—ancient symbols and images that looked like they could tell stories if only he could understand them.