A soft wind moved through the valley as Liora stood at the edge of the old stone bridge. For years she had dreamed of crossing it, though no one in her village ever had. They said the bridge led nowhere, that the forest beyond swallowed travelers whole, that the world on the other side was not meant for ordinary people.
But Liora had grown tired of ordinary.
She placed one foot on the first stone. Nothing happened. No magic, no thunder, no revelation. Just the quiet weight of her own heartbeat. She almost laughed at how small the moment felt compared to the fear she had carried for so long.
Then she took the second step.
A faint shimmer rippled across the bridge, like sunlight on water. The mist in the forest stirred, parting just enough to reveal a narrow trail she had never seen before. It hadn’t been there moments earlier. Or perhaps it had been waiting for someone to move toward it. Liora felt a warmth rise in her chest — not from the forest, but from herself. The path wasn’t opening because it existed. It was opening because she had finally chosen to walk. She looked back once, seeing the village roofs far behind her, small and safe and unchanging. Then she turned toward the new trail, her steps growing steadier with each one. The path opened, just as the old saying promised.
But only because she had taken the first step.