CHAPTER 96: THE UNKNOWN.

"That’s enough," she said, her voice unsteady. "You’ve taken enough warmth from me."

He stared at her for a long moment, breathing hard, his jaw tight with barely restrained desire.

But he stepped back.

Slowly. Reluctantly.

"For now," he murmured.

Eris slid off the table, her legs unsteady, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might crack her ribs.

Without another word, she turned and left the room, her cloak whispering behind her.

She didn’t look back.

Couldn’t.

Because if she did, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to leave.

Soren stood there for a long time after she left, staring at the door, his hands still warm from where they’d held her.

His desire burned hotter than any fire she could conjure.

And he knew—knew—that this wouldn’t be the end.

It was only the beginning.

He had to be patient with Eris, but gods, patience was worse than pain itself.

In her room, Eris pressed her back against the door and exhaled shakily.

Her fingers touched the new mark on her neck, his mark and heat flooded her cheeks.

"I must not be fooled by such beauty," she told herself firmly.

"I can’t afford it."

But even as she thought it, she could still feel the ghost of his lips on her skin.

And the traitorous part of her heart whispered:

Are you sure?

Ah, but dawn in the borderlands is a strange, liminal thing, neither fully fire nor fully ice, but something caught between, trembling on the edge of transformation.

Every breath felt sharper, cleaner, like inhaling winter itself. The vegetation had begun to shift giving way to hardier, frost-resistant species that clung stubbornly to rocky soil. Icebloom vines twined around blackened tree trunks, their pale flowers glowing faintly in the early light..

This was the transition zone. The place where fire and ice met, clashed, and somehow coexisted.

It was beautiful. Haunting. Unnatural.

Eris emerged from her room as the procession prepared to depart, her expression carefully neutral. She avoided Soren’s gaze as she climbed into the carriage, her cloak pulled tight around her shoulders.

Soren, waiting by the door, caught her eye for just a moment.

And smiled.

That knowing, infuriating smile that said he remembered every second of last night.

Eris looked away, her jaw tight.

Distance, she reminded herself. Keep your distance.

But even as the carriage rolled forward, she could feel his gaze on her, eyes trailing to ner neck like he was enjoying his work of art.

And the mark on her neck burned like a brand.

The landscape grew wilder, stranger, as they traveled deeper into the outer Ring.

Crumbling temples rose from the earth like the bones of giants, massive structures dedicated to Pyronox, their walls carved with scenes of flame and conquest, their altars stained with centuries of offerings. Blood, wine, fire-glass, all left by pilgrims who believed the god still watched.

Stone circles dotted the hills, their markers worn smooth by wind and time. These were places where ancient rituals had been performed, rites to strengthen the barriers, to commune with the dragons, to beg for protection.

Now they stood empty. Silent. Forgotten.

Eris felt the weight of history pressing down on her with every mile. This was her heritage. Her legacy. The world her father had helped shape.

And it was crumbling.

And then they saw them.

Massive structures carved directly into the cliff faces, their entrances flanked by statues of Pyronox in all his forms, dragon, flame, humanoid. Some had collapsed, reduced to rubble and dust. Others still stood, defiant against time, their carvings still sharp, still vivid.

Eris stared at one particular statue, a dragon coiled around a pillar, its eyes carved with such precision they seemed to follow her.

It looked disturbingly familiar.

As they passed, something shifted.

The world flickered.

Eris gasped, her hand flying to her chest.

And suddenly she was there.

A child stood before the temple. Small, pale-haired, trembling.

A man’s hand gripped her shoulder, too tight, bruising.

"Do you understand what you are?" His voice was cold, cruel. "You are not my daughter. You are a vessel. Nothing more."

The child didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Fear had stolen her voice.

"You will carry this burden," the man continued. "And you will never speak of it. Do you understand?"

The child nodded.

And the dragon inside her stirred for the first time.

"Eris"

Soren’s voice cut through the vision like a blade.

She gasped, blinking, the world snapping back into focus.

He was beside her, his hand on her arm, his eyes sharp with concern. "What happened?"

She pulled away, shaking her head.

"Nothing. Just... ghosts."

But her hands were trembling.

And Soren knew she was lying.

...

The land itself seemed confused.

Patches of warm earth sat beside frozen soil. Fire-plants grew next to frost-flowers. Steam rose where the two met, hissing softly, creating a fog that clung to the ground like a living thing.

The balance was breaking.

And the beasts knew it.

Rakhai packs watched from the tree line, their seven tails glowing like warning fires. Dravik circled overhead, their wings catching the light, their cries echoing across the hills. In the distance, a massive shape moved, too large to be anything but a Raugar, its roar shaking the ground beneath their feet.

But they didn’t attack.

They just watched.

"They’re gathering," Jorel muttered, his hand on his sword.

"Waiting for something," Ryse added grimly.

Eris felt the dragon inside her stir.

Answering.

And then, at last, they reached them.

Ancient stones marking where Solmire ended. Half bore Pyronox’s flame sigil, carved deep and glowing faintly with residual magic. The other half bore Aenithra’s frost, pale, elegant, cold as death.

They had been placed during the original peace treaty between realms, a promise that fire and ice would not destroy each other.

But now they were cracked. Damaged by time and magic.

Failing.

Eris stepped out of the carriage, staring at the markers.

This was it.

The edge of her world. The world that was written by a man perharps.

And beyond it?

The unknown.