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 time to remember 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. Monuments to winter's inevitable victory over flame.
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.
