"You may now cross the bridge."
The trio finally let out a breath of relief. The torment from Granny Plops was over—at least for now.
Finn grabbed the box containing the talking head, and they stood together before the rickety bridge. A sudden gust of wind swept across the ravine, making the old wooden planks sway and creak ominously.
’How convenient...’ Finn sighed.
As they stepped closer, soft whispers began rising from below. A thick fog slowly rolled in under the bridge, swallowing up the view beneath.
’What the hell is it with this world and fogs?!’ Finn mentally groaned.
Then, behind them—a loud creak. They turned quickly.
Granny Plops... was gone.
The elf looked around, devastated. "My panty collection... she took everything!"
Majestria’s eye twitched. "That bitch made me do all that and then left?!"
Finn stared blankly at the empty space where the old woman stood moments before.
’Who could’ve guessed...’
But left behind was the true menace—Celemothy the chicken. Standing there. Menacing. Unblinking.
"I hate you," Finn muttered to himself, before turning back to the bridge.
He stepped onto the first board—when suddenly, it jolted to life. A sentient wooden plank raised its voice in an obnoxiously sarcastic tone.
"Welcome, walkers of shame. To pass, you must follow the bridge’s sacred rules."
’You have to be kidding me...’
No talking about your feelings out loud.
One person must carry the Burden of Enlightenment.
"Burden of enlightenment...?" Finn muttered. Then he heard a familiar, spine-chilling cluck.
His eyes widened. "No... You don’t mean—"
The chicken flapped its wings.
Both girls stared at it. Then turned to Finn and, in unison, pointed.
The chicken launched itself onto Finn’s back, digging its claws in with grim commitment. It screeched directly into his ear, making his eardrums throb.
Finn reached back to tear it off, but—
"You must carry the chicken to pass," the plank droned.
Finn stared at the fog in front of him, dead inside.
’I should just jump off and end it here.’
Without saying another word, he began walking forward, the chicken clinging to him like a demonic backpack.
"Come on," he grumbled.
The elf followed immediately, eyes sparkling in admiration. Majestria hesitated, eyeing the disgusting planks with disdain.
She sneered. "I am not stepping on that filth barefoot."
Without saying another word, he began walking forward, the chicken clinging to him like a demonic backpack.
"Come on," he grumbled.
The elf followed immediately, eyes sparkling in admiration. Majestria hesitated, eyeing the disgusting planks with disdain.
She sneered. "I am not stepping on that filth barefoot."
As they moved deeper the fog thickened. Visibility dropped to nearly nothing. Some planks were outright missing. Others squished underfoot like soggy diapers.
"Every step you take will be judged," groaned the sentient plank. "By me. Harshly."
"Your name is Larry," Finn snapped. "Shut the hell up."
Celemothy screamed again.
Finn turned—Lickthorn was poking the chicken.
A whisper echoed from beneath his feet:
"Finn... why do you pee sitting down?"
Lickthorn gasped and covered her mouth, her choker glowing in reaction.
"What the hell?! You didn’t hear anything!" Finn shouted.
Then he noticed Majestria, still far behind, frozen with disgust and pride.
With a dramatic sigh, Finn turned around and started walking back toward her, the bridge wobbling dangerously with each step. He nearly slipped, but steadied himself, reaching her.
"W-What are you doing?" Majestria blinked, stepping back.
Finn didn’t answer. He grabbed her thigh and lifted her up like luggage.
Now carrying the goddess in his arm, chicken on his back, and a box with a sarcastic head in his hand, he trudged back to where the elf stood watching in stunned silence.
"Majestria likes being carried," a whisper teased.
"I do not!" Majestria shouted, face red.
The chicken screeched in his ear, the goddess clung to his arm, and Finn’s sanity drifted away like a fart in the wind.
A sarcastic whisper rose from below the bridge. "Such romance... Carrying a goddess as your bride while cradling a chicken. Truly, a tale for the ages."
"Shut your mouth," Finn grumbled, pushing forward with mechanical despair.
The elf stood there watching him—equal parts impressed, aroused, and confused. As he passed her, he muttered, "Stop standing there and move." She obeyed without a word, sticking close behind.
The fog thickened. The whispers got louder. And personal.
"Majestria values her feet more than your lives."
"Of course I do! They’re my most sacred asset," she snapped proudly.
"Lickthorn grinds on anything she can get her hands on."
"I-I do not! That’s slander!" the elf cried, clutching her cheeks.
"Finn enjoys watching romance shows alone in the dark..."
"S-Shut up!" Finn barked, ears burning.
The bridge felt like a treadmill into madness. The whispers dug into their brains, unraveling their mental stability thread by thread. Majestria clutched him tighter, clearly disturbed. The elf inched closer too, eyes wide, hands fidgeting.
And then the elf made the fatal mistake.
"Rule three has been broken.
You will now receive... a minor inconvenience."
Lickthorn’s eyes widened in dread. Majestria held her breath. Finn gulped.
Her panties launched themselves upward into a vicious supernatural wedgie.
Then let her tongue hang out like a perverted Pomeranian.
Finn looked back in horror. "I’m not dealing with this," he muttered and pressed on. The elf, after shaking off the trauma and adjusting her soul, followed behind.
But then... the fog ahead swirled. A face emerged.
"Oh, come on! I didn’t even break a rule!" Finn shouted.
"Oh, come on! I didn’t even break a rule!" the mist mocked in his exact voice, but smugger.
"You like eating on the toilet."
"...And I stand by it!" Finn snapped. "It saves time!"
The chicken screeched again into his ear.
In a fit of pain, Finn accidentally clutched Majestria’s thigh tighter. She gasped. "Don’t grab me like that!"
"This goddamn chicken!" Finn roared.
"This goddamn chicken!" the fog mocked again.
Finn was teetering on the edge of a breakdown. His left eye twitched. His brain felt like mashed potatoes. And yet... he grinned.
"Alright. Let’s finish this."
He started walking faster.
The elf followed, breathing hard.
Then the bridge began to tremble.
"Your time on the bridge has ended. Now, you suffer."
"FUCK YOU, LARRY!" Finn shouted as he broke into a jog.
"Wait for me!" Lickthorn screamed, sprinting after him.
Wind blasted into Majestria’s face as she tightened her grip around his head, her chest smothering his vision.
"Slow down, you lunatic!"
The bridge groaned. Cracks echoed behind them. One plank fell, then another.
The elf screamed in terror, "DON’T LEAVE ME!"
She kicked into a full sprint and barely caught up.
The chicken let out a victorious war cry as the bridge behind them began collapsing in chunks—every broken rule shaving off more planks.
But the bridge was down to two boards.
Finn didn’t think. He leaped—goddess in his arm, chicken on his back, dignity long gone.
The elf screamed as she dove after him.
They soared through the fog.