Hell's Gate Bridge Alabama の小説・ストーリー

"Once we get over this bridge, I'm sure we'll be halfway across" Amelia sighed. Halfway to hell was what he should have said. She was tired already. Meeting Maxwell after what she had done to him and his father, she presumed, would be her worst nightmare yet. Over the bridge and another one, Amelia watched the trees pass her by. Quietly, she sat, pitying herself. No mate, no baby, and certainly no happiness. Was the moon goddess against her in this life? "We're here", the driver honked at the gate. Amelia's eyes ran to see what awaited her, but as they opened the gate, all she could see was the usual mansion of the Alpha and dry land.

"Breathe, Damien…Breathe…You can do this." With one click, the door slowly opens. There is a bright light that blinds me but for a moment. No, I am not in heaven. I have entered when these humans have their day. Now let me paint you the picture. This is not a gate that leads into a rose garden. It is not the type of gate that leads into a park. This gate, well, it has landed me in a pile of filth and mud. Somewhere on the outskirts of this city, the gate that leads you to hell is found on the edge of an old abandoned graveyard.

Theo, David, and Marcus walked down the gravel track toward the lower boundary, carrying heavy iron pry-bars and a coil of thick hemp rope over their shoulders. The slush had receded enough to expose the gravel roadway, though cold mountain runoff washed over their boots in clear, swift sheets. I followed fifty paces behind with Kat, who carried a heavy ball-peen hammer and a box of square iron rivets to inspect the copper gate's mounting brackets after the heavy freeze. When we reached the lower bridge, the massive, forty-foot span of hand hewn, white oak timbers that crossed the narrow gorge, the water was churning four feet below the deck.

It was a physical paper map, scavenged from some old municipal office. Torque slammed his heavy metal finger onto a red circle drawn on the map. "The Ash-Fall Bridge," Torque said. "It's the only major land crossing over the toxic river that separates Sector 7 from Sector 8. It's the only way heavy armor can cross into the Rust Belt." "Let me guess," Leo rumbled, stepping forward, the machine gun resting easily against his hip. "They're crossing it."

rasp, barely rising above the roar of the fire in the floors above. He found them at the "Bridge of Sighs"—a narrow, natural stone arch that spanned the gap between the internal Archive and the hidden river exit. The bridge was barely three feet wide, suspended over a two-hundred-foot drop into the churning, icy waters of the Appalachian gorge. The Guardian of the Threshold

If a bridge was truly what they were looking for, clearly they had found it. Caleb took her hand and led her towards the bridge, merging with the traffic. She looked up, and was overwhelmed at the sight. It was unlike any bridge she had ever seen. Its entrance was heralded by a huge, arched gate, with guards on either side. At its top were multiple spikes, on which sat severed heads, blood dripping from their throats, impaled on the spikes. It was a gruesome sight, and Caitlin averted her gaze. "I remember this," sighed Caleb. “From centuries ago. This is how they always adorned their bridges: with heads of prisoners. They do it as a warning to other criminals.”

"The servers are gone. The Wolves are at the gate. There is no more data to sell." Elena pushed herself up, her white leathers stained with red dirt and oil. She didn't look like a Queen anymore. She looked like a ghost that had finally run out of places to haunt. She looked toward the burning hangar, then back at me, a slow, terrifying smile spreading across her lips. "You think Dax Steele is the only one who knows how to plant a charge?" she whispered. My blood turned to ice. I looked down at the bridge supports. Hidden beneath the faux-concrete pillars were the same high-intensity thermite packs I'd seen in the Daytona bunkers. This bridge wasn't just a set for a movie; it was a giant, el

“Forgotten River by Persephone’s Folly Bridge! “Neither is there right or wrong in life, neither merit nor demerit in death! “You could have lived a decent life, yet you’ve chosen to bring demise upon yourself!” The woman was finally moved. She looked at the ancient bridge in horror and exclaimed, “One of the three artifacts of the Infernal Hell, Persephone’s Folly Bridge?” As soon as she said that, a rusty chain rushed out of Persephone’s Folly Bridge and shackled the woman’s soul.

I had lived in Miami most of my life and still hadn’t gone over there to see the castles that some people referred to as “homes” I turned onto the bridge and took the drive over the ocean. It didn't take long until I arrived at the other side. At the end of the bridge, the road ran into a giant gate, which was closed off and blocking my access. Next to the gate was a small building with a guard. “This is ridiculous,” I said to myself. “This isn’t where Gabe lives. I should turn around.” It was then that I realized I couldn’t turn around without driving up to the gate anyway, since there wasn’t enough room on the two-lane road. With a sigh, I pulled up to the small building next to the gate w

Malakai, Silas, and Kieran stood in the muddy track, their blades covered in dark blood, their eyes wide as they stared at me. I lowered my hand, the blinding golden light in my eyes fading back to a deep hazel. My posture remained unbroken, regal, and terrifyingly calm. "Clear the trail," I said smoothly, pulling my stallion's reins to turn toward the wooden bridge ahead. "We have an Alpha to meet." Ten minutes later, we reached the roaring river gorge. Across the heavy wooden bridge stood the massive iron gates of the Sun-Spire Pack. High on the stone ramparts, hundreds of archers stood at the ready, their longbows drawn, their stone-tipped arrows aimed directly at the bridge approach.