Chapter 20: XX

Billy, Miss Matilda, and Uncle Horace horses stumbled out of the sun-drenched field and into a mist-shrouded realm. The air turned cool, and shadows clung to their every step. As they ventured deeper, the mist thickened, obscuring their view.

Before them stood a broken wooden bridge, its timeworn planks sagging and missing in places. The mist swirled around its splintered rails, whispering secrets of forgotten travelers. The trio exchanged wary glances. Their horses, sensing danger, snorted,swayed from side to side, and pawed the ground. Billy's horse reared, tossing him off its back. With a startled loud scream that echoed, Billy hit the ground, and his steed bolted back toward the safety of the sunlit meadow.

Billy now with scraped arm jumped onto Matildas horse, sitting infront.

"Steady now," Uncle Horace said, gripping the reins of his own jittery horse. "We must cross this bridge."

Miss Matilda peered over the edge-palms sweaty.. The chasm below was lost in mist, its depths unknown. "What lies on the other side?"

"Adventure," Funny Billy replied, brushing dirt from his trousers. "And perhaps answers."

As they stepped onto the bridge, its wood groaned under their weight. The mist clung to their skin, damp and chilling. Deadly birds—sinister creatures with feathers like midnight—swooped overhead, their eyes gleaming with malice. The grass on the far side of the bridge was a sickly gray, as if it had forgotten the taste of sunlight.

"Keep moving," Uncle Horace urged. "We can't turn back now."

As they advanced, the mist thickened. Shadows danced on the rails, and the air grew colder. The bridge swayed, its gaps wider than they'd imagined. Billy's horse had fled back to safety, leaving them vulnerable.

And then it happened—the bridge shuddered. A splintered plank snapped, and Billy horse reared up neighing, "Steady now"" Uncle Horace's voice cracked as he tried to calm his horse. "We can't turn back now."

But the mist held secrets. Whispers of lost souls who'd faltered here. Billy's mind raced—should he risk the broken plank or retreat?

Miss Matilda's eyes widened. "Look!"

From the depths rose a creature—a bridge guardian. Its form blurred, part wood, part shadow. It hissed, revealing jagged teeth. Its eyes bore centuries of hunger.

"We're trespassers," Uncle Horace said. "It demands payment."

Billy's heart pounded. "What do we offer?"

The guardian's voice echoed—a haunting melody. "A memory. A cherished one."

Miss Matilda stepped forward. "I remember my grandmother's laughter."

Uncle Horace followed. "The scent of freshly baked bread."

Billy hesitated. His memories were raw—of lost love, betrayal. But he chose—the day he'd climbed a sunflower-strewn hill with his sister, their laughter echoing.

The guardian accepted their offerings. The broken plank mended, and the mist lifted. The bridge stood whole, spanning the chasm.

"Go," the guardian whispered. "Remember."

They crossed, hearts lighter. The grass on the other side bloomed, and the sun broke through. Funny Billy glanced back—the guardian had vanished.

"What did you give?" Miss Matilda asked.

Billy smiled. "A sunflower memory."

And so, they continued—their steps sure, their bond stronger. The perilous crossing had changed them, leaving behind more than a repaired bridge.

Arthur materialized from the mist, his eyes ablaze with anger. Miss Matilda and Billy froze, their hearts pounding.

He dismounted his horse the leather squeaking as he swung his leg over. His boots sank into the dew-kissed grass, and he strode toward them. Matilda's breath caught in her throat. Arthur was a force of nature—a tempest of emotions barely contained.

"Matilda," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "What madness possesses you? Crossing the bridge is forbidden. You know the dangers that lie beyond."

Matilda's hand trembled as Arthur took it. His touch was both fierce and tender, a paradox she couldn't unravel. "Arthur," she whispered, "we must go on for my dearestp[arents are in danger and they all that I have "His grip tightened. "Foolish girl," he spat. "The guardian is capricious. Its gifts come at a price. What did you give?"

Billy stepped forward, his eyes defiant. "A memory," he said. "A sunflower blooming in the meadow where we first met."

Arthur's jaw clenched. "You know nothing," he muttered. "The bridge leads to realms beyond imagination. Creatures that hunger for memories, emotions, and souls. We cannot risk it."

Matilda pulled her hand free. "Arthur," she said, "we've come too far. Our bond is stronger than any danger."

He shook his head, his gaze piercing hers. "You don't understand. The guardian feeds on memories—the sweet and the bitter. It craves them like a starving beast. And once you cross, there's no turning back."

Billy stepped between them. "We'll face whatever awaits," he declared. "Together .I need to find my parents and I'm willing to fight any thing that comes our way."

Arthur's anger wavered, replaced by something akin to sorrow. "You're both fools," he said. "But if you insist, I'll accompany you. Not as your protector, but as a witness to your folly."

"Oh Arthur.."

"Wemust get on before night sets in.."

And so he jumped back onto his horse and they pressed forward, the broken bridge now magically repaired itself .

The guardian's whispered warning echoed in their minds. But love, curiosity, and defiance propelled them onward, leaving behind more than a mere bridge. They carried hope, regret, and the weight of their sunflower memory into the unknown.

And Arthur, ever the enigma, followed—his heart torn between duty and desire, his own memories locked away like secrets in the mist.