They walked over ten minutes through the pathway until they came onto the bridge on the map. The Island of Delos was idyllic; there was an abundance of green plants in bloom. The gentle breeze rolled in, and the island looked like a picturesque scene from a painting. They had not seen even 90% of the Island, but compared to the beauty of Delos, the bridge in front of them looked like it did not even exist in the same world.
The planks were worn and weathered; the marble columns were weathering and looked like they would crumble with any extra force. There were some carvings and words on the column, but they were so faint that the carvings could barely be seen anymore. Thin, rusty chains hung at intervals to serve as handholds that no one would dare hold due to how weathered they were.
