The fire queen was into herself, knees drawn to her chest, arms locked tight around her body like she was holding herself together by sheer will. Her hair hung forward, pale strands sticking to sweat-slick skin, concealing her face entirely. Her dress clung to her, half-singed, the hem still glowing faintly as embers crawled along the seams.
The flames around her moved with consciousness, not wild, not random, but alive. It circled her, an incandescent barrier, coiling and uncoiling like a dragon's breath, keeping the world — him — out.
Soren stilled. The frost along his arms crackled faintly as instinct urged him closer, but the barrier flared in warning. The wave of heat that followed was strong enough to melt steel.
He stopped inches from it, the ice beneath his boots hissing into steam.
"Eris."
This time, it was softer. A whisper meant for the woman, not the queen.
No response.
Only the trembling.
And then,
A sound.
Faint. Fragile.
