And in the heart of the cataclysm, surrounded by the proof of our mutual ruin, I felt it... a warmth that had nothing to do with dragons or divinity. It was a small, mortal, impossible bloom in the frozen tundra of my old heart.
Fool. My beautiful, catastrophic fool. Willing to watch his world turn to cinders for the sake of the monster who loved him.
We were a pair of utter madmen. And the madness, I realized with a clarity that felt like destiny, was the only thing that had ever made sense.
"Soren…" My voice wasn't even a word anymore. It was a plea... thin, trembling, carved out of fear and exhaustion and something far more dangerous.
"Absolutely not."
His answer didn't crack, didn't waver, didn't even breathe. It dropped between us like a verdict, heavy enough to change the air around us.
The tone he used, that tone was the same one he used to command armies, to end wars, to silence entire courts with a single breath.
