Inside the circle of the ritual, Eris was weeping.
It was not her own sorrow that spilled down her cheeks, though her heart broke for the ancient silver shape she had just seen vanish into the snow.
It was his sorrow, Pyronox's ancient grief, moving through her spirit like a river of fire. It was dark, older than the kingdom beneath their feet, and so heavy that her small frame trembled beneath its weight. Yet she held it. She gripped the connection with both hands and refused to let go.
'She tried to come back,' Eris thought, her mind racing through the fading embers of the vision. 'She always meant to come back. She put herself into the bloodline so she could reach him again.'
Her eyes snapped open, fixed upon the tall, silver-haired man standing outside the glowing boundary.
'And she did,' Eris realized, her pulse hammering in her ears. 'she came back in Soren.'
Outside the circle, Soren's hand remained pressed against Eris's back.
