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Soren stood atop the corpse, breathing hard, frost steaming off him in waves, eyes still glowing that terrible white.

The chamber was silent now. Silent in the way crypts were silent, in the way the world went quiet after violence so absolute that even the stones needed ti to rember how to exist.

Two Magma Serpents lay dead at his feet. Ancient things. Creatures that had survived centuries by being smarter, faster, more ruthless than anything else that crawled from the earth’s burning heart.

Dead.

Frozen solid. Monunts to winter’s inevitable victory over fla.

But Soren didn’t look at them. Didn’t spare them a second glance.

Because slowly, slowly, he turned.

To face her.

To face the fire that watched him with eyes that saw everything and understood nothing.

To face the woman he swore to protect, wearing a god like a second skin.

She hadn’t moved during the entire fight.

Hadn’t helped. Hadn’t interfered. Just watched with those golden, pupilless eyes that tracked his every movent with the clinical detachnt of sothing cataloging data, studying behavior, learning in ways that had nothing to do with mortal curiosity and everything to do with divine assessnt.

The wings of fire still spread from her back, casting shadows that shouldn’t exist, that moved independently of any light source as though they were rejections of reality itself. Her hair still floated in that impossible way, each strand alive with heat, and the flas that wreathed her skin pulsed in rhythm with sothing that might have been a heartbeat or might have been the planet’s core resonating through her flesh.

She was beautiful.

She was terrifying.

She was not Eris.

Soren knew that now. Knew it in his bones, in the part of him that had recognized divinity the mont she’d spoken, the mont that voice, those voices, had layered and harmonized in ways that bypassed language and beca pure aning carved directly into his soul.

But she was still in there.

Sowhere.

Buried beneath the god, beneath the fire, beneath the weight of a power that should never have been contained in mortal flesh.

And he would burn the world to ash before he left her there alone.

He approached slowly.

Each step deliberate. Careful. Hands raised, palms out, the universal gesture of peace that transcended species and civilization and even divinity itself.

"Eris." His voice was steady despite the frost still crackling across his skin, despite the runes still glowing beneath the surface, despite every instinct screaming that approaching her was suicide. "It’s Soren. Co to ."

She tilted her head.

The movent was smooth. Too smooth. Like a predator assessing whether sothing was prey or threat or beneath notice entirely.

Her expression was blank. Not peaceful, empty. As though the concept of emotion had been filed away as irrelevant data, as though the face she wore was nothing more than a mask that no longer needed to perform.

She didn’t respond.

Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t do any of the thousand tiny things that marked sothing as alive rather than rely animate.

Soren tried again, taking another step, his voice dropping lower, softer. "Eris, I know you’re in there. I know you can hear . Just... co back. Please."

The silence stretched.

And then she spoke.

With that sa voice that ca from her mouth but was not hers.

The voice that was layered. Multiplied. Harmonized in ways that shouldn’t be possible without a chorus, without instrunts, without reality itself bending to accommodate the weight of it.

It sounded like mountains speaking. Like the earth’s molten core given tongue. Like the first spark that had ignited creation deciding it had sothing to say and the universe had no choice but to listen.

"YOU DARE APPROACH US, CHILD OF WINTER?"

Not a question. Not really.

An assessnt. A weighing. A judgnt rendered before the trial even began.

Soren’s blood turned to ice.

Not taphorically.

He felt it. Felt his pulse slow, felt frost form in his veins for just an instant before his own power burned it away, fought it back, reminded his body that he was alive and would remain so through sheer force of will.

This wasn’t Eris.

This was sothing older. Vaster. Sothing that had watched civilizations rise and fall like children building castles in sand, that had asured ti in eons and found them wanting.

This was a god.

But he didn’t step back. Didn’t lower his hands. Didn’t let fear show on his face even though it clawed at his throat and scread at him to run, run, RUN before sothing beyond comprehension decided he was an inconvenience worth eliminating.

Instead, he asked the only question that mattered.

"Who are you?"

The entity regarded him with those burning eyes.

For a long mont, it didn’t answer. Just looked, and in that gaze Soren felt himself being dissected, analyzed, understood in ways that stripped away every pretense, every mask, every carefully constructed wall he’d built around himself since childhood.

It saw everything.

And found him... interesting.

The voice, when it ca again, carried sothing that might have been amusent. Or pity. Or the divine equivalent of a scientist noting unexpected behavior in a lab specin.

"I AM THE FLA THAT BIRTHED YOUR WORLD. I AM PYRONOX, THE ETERNAL BLAZE. I AM THE FIRE THAT WARD THE FIRST HEARTH AND THE INFERNO THAT WILL CONSU THE LAST STAR. I AM BEGINNING AND ENDING, CREATION AND DESTRUCTION, THE HEAT IN YOUR BLOOD AND THE ASH YOU WILL BECO."

Each word hit like a physical blow. Like being told a truth so fundantal that reality had to shift slightly to accommodate it.

Soren, who had faced down assassins and armies, who had walked into battles knowing he would walk out, who had stared into the abyss and laughed, felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with his own power.

A god.

Not a myth. Not a legend told to children to make them behave.

Real.

Standing in front of him wearing the face of the woman he loved, speaking truths that predated language itself, and looking at him like he was a curiosity. A puzzle. Sothing that shouldn’t exist but did, and wasn’t that fascinating?

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