The Victory That Wasn't
The celebration at their inn lasted until well past midnight. Duke Aldren free, Thornhaven recognized, the Church fractured—by any measure, they'd won significant victories.
So why did Lioran feel like something inside him was tearing apart?
He stood on the inn's roof, away from the revelry below, clutching his chest as pain lanced through him. Not physical pain—something deeper. The ember was...
changing. Ever since the combined working with Evelina during the battle, something had shifted in the fire that lived inside him.
It pulsed erratically now, surging hot then cold, demanding release then retreating into sullen silence. Like a living thing with moods and opinions, growing increasingly separate from his own will.
"You're hurting," Mira's voice came from the stairwell. She'd always had an uncanny ability to find him when he was suffering.
"I'm fine."
"Don't lie to me. I've been watching you for three days. You wince when you think no one's looking. Your hands shake. And right now, you're glowing." She pointed at his chest, where faint red light seeped through his shirt.
Lioran looked down and saw she was right. The ember's glow was visible even through fabric, pulsing like an exposed heart.
"It's getting harder to control," he admitted. "During the trial, when Bishop Marcus called me demon, when people shouted heretic—the ember wanted to answer.
Wanted to show them exactly what a demon could do."
"But you didn't let it."
"Because Evelina made me promise. Because King Valorian is betting his daughter's future on me being human. Because everyone down there—" he gestured at the inn below, "—is celebrating because they believe I'm more than just fire in flesh." His voice cracked. "But what if they're wrong? What if I'm barely holding on, and the moment real pressure comes, I'll burn everything?"
Mira stepped closer, studied his face in the dim light. "You're exhausted. You've been holding back your power for weeks while everyone demands you be simultaneously strong and restrained, powerful and gentle, fire and... not fire. That's impossible. No one can maintain that forever."
"Evelina can. She controls ice perfectly. Never slips, never loses focus."
"Evelina rules the Frost Kingdoms and has decades of training," Mira countered.
"You're a boy who got power thrust on him six months ago. Stop comparing yourself to impossible standards."
"If I don't meet impossible standards, people die. Thornhaven falls. Everything we've built turns to ash." Lioran laughed bitterly. "No pressure, right?"
A distant crack—like ice breaking—made them both turn. The sound had come from inside Lioran's chest.
"What was that?" Mira asked, fear creeping into her voice.
"I don't know." Lioran pressed his hand to his sternum, feeling the ember writhe beneath skin and bone. It felt... wrong. Fractured. Like something that had been whole was splintering. "During the battle, when Evelina and I merged our powers—fire and ice together—something changed. The ember's not just mine anymore. It's... confused. Part of it wants to burn. Part of it wants to freeze. Part of it wants—"
Another crack. This time, visible fissures of light spread across his chest, like his skin was glass breaking from internal pressure.
"We need to get you to a healer," Mira said urgently.
"No healer can fix this. It's not injury. It's..." Lioran struggled for words. "It's like the ember is trying to become something it wasn't meant to be. Fire and ice shouldn't coexist in one person. Maybe the Soul Binding broke something fundamental."
"Then we get you to Evelina. If the Binding caused this, maybe she can—"
"She's two weeks' hard ride north. I don't have two weeks." Lioran felt heat building, pressure mounting. The ember was going to rupture, and when it did... "Get everyone out of the inn. Now."
"Lioran—"
"Now!" The word came out wreathed in flame. His eyes blazed, his skin glowed, heat waves rippling off him in visible distortion.
Mira ran.
.....
The Breaking Point
Lioran barely made it to the roof's edge before the ember detonated.
Fire exploded from him in a sphere of pure heat, vaporizing a section of the roof, the blast visible for miles. He screamed as power tore through him, uncontrolled, uncontrollable. The careful discipline Evelina had taught him, the techniques for managing the ember—all of it shattered under the pressure.
Below, people screamed and fled. Guards shouted. Bells rang in alarm.
Lioran collapsed to his knees, flames wreathing his body, burning nothing because the fire was coming from within rather than without. He could feel the ember fragmenting, pieces of it pulling in different directions.
The fire wants to burn.
The ice wants to freeze.
The human wants to survive.
The dragon wants to rule.
The boy wants to disappear.
Too many voices. Too many conflicting demands. The Soul Binding had connected him to Evelina, but it had also connected the ember to ice, creating something unstable, something that couldn't exist in one body.
Through the pain and confusion, Lioran felt something else—a presence reaching across the distance. Cold and familiar.
Evelina.
The Soul Binding worked both ways. She felt his crisis, felt him breaking apart. And across two hundred miles of mountains and plains, she sent something: not ice, not power, but presence. A reminder that he wasn't alone inside his own fire.
The ember responded, the fragments pulling back together—not completely, not perfectly, but enough. Enough to stop the immediate rupture. Enough to let Lioran breathe again.
He lay on the scorched roof, shaking, the crisis passed but the underlying problem unchanged. The ember was damaged. The Soul Binding was straining. And he was running out of time before something catastrophic happened.
...
Consequences
By the time Lioran descended to face his companions, guards had surrounded the inn. Duke Aldren was negotiating with the captain, trying to explain that the Dragon Lord wasn't attacking, just... experiencing difficulties.
"Difficulties that nearly burned down half a city block," the captain said tightly. "He needs to be restrained."
"Restrained how?" Aldren asked. "Chains? He'd burn through them. Magic suppression? We don't have that capability. You're asking for the impossible."
Lioran stepped into view, still glowing faintly, wisps of smoke rising from his clothes.
"I'll leave Hearthholm. Remove the danger from the city."
"The Continental Council starts in two weeks," Aldren protested. "You can't leave now."
"I can't stay either. Not like this. Another episode and I might kill people accidentally."
Lioran looked at Kaelen. "Take my place at the Council. Speak for Thornhaven. You know the arguments, the evidence, everything we planned."
"They summoned the Dragon Lord," Kaelen said. "Not his representative. If you're not there—"
"Then they'll have to negotiate with humans instead of focusing on me. Might be better anyway." Lioran turned to Sister Elara. "You and Cardinal Matthias can provide religious legitimacy. Aldren brings political weight. The Merchant Confederacy is interested regardless of who's present. You don't need me."
"We do need you," Mira said quietly. "Because you're the symbol. You're what Thornhaven means—that power can be controlled, that strength can serve rather than dominate. If you run away now, you prove them right. You prove that the Dragon Lord is too dangerous to exist."
"I'm not running away. I'm protecting everyone from—"
Another crack. Smaller this time, but audible. The ember wasn't stable.
Renn stepped forward. "The Ice Core. The one I absorbed. Maybe... maybe ice magic could help stabilize him? Counter the fire directly?"
"You barely control your own power," Kaelen objected. "And you're aging from the Core's strain. Using more magic will—"
"Will what? Kill me faster?" Renn's laugh was sharp. "I'm dying anyway. At least let it mean something."
"No." Lioran's voice was absolute. "I won't let you burn yourself out to fix my problems."
"Then what's your solution?" Renn challenged. "Run away? Let the ember tear you apart? Watch from a distance while the Continental Council decides Thornhaven's fate?"
Lioran didn't have an answer.
...
The Stranger's Offer
"There is another option."
Everyone turned to find a figure standing in the doorway—someone none of them had noticed arrive. Tall, cloaked, face hidden in shadow that seemed deeper than natural darkness.
"Who are you?" Guards raised weapons.
"Someone who's been watching the Dragon Lord with great interest." The figure's voice was neither male nor female, neither young nor old. "Someone who knows what's happening to him because I've seen it before."
The stranger moved forward with fluid grace, guards backing away instinctively. "The Soul Binding fractured the ember because fire and ice aren't meant to coexist. But there are five Dragon Cores total, yes? Fire, Ice, Lightning, Earth, and Void. You've claimed one, your apprentice another. The imbalance is destroying you because two Cores in proximity without the others creates instability."
"How do you know about the Cores?" Lioran demanded, the ember flaring dangerously.
"Because I helped create them, many lifetimes ago. I was there when the original Dragon Lord fell. I know what the Cores are, what they can do, and what they cost."
The stranger pulled back their hood, revealing a face that was somehow ageless—old and young simultaneously, human and not, familiar and alien.
"My name is Sage. And I can teach you to stabilize the ember before it tears you apart. But you'll need to come with me. Now. Before the fractures become irreparable."
"This is a trap," Kaelen said immediately.
"Probably," Sage agreed. "But what choice does he have? Stay here and explode, killing everyone within a hundred feet? Run away and hope the ember magically fixes itself?
Or come with me and at least try to survive?"
"Where would we go?" Mira asked.
"To the place where the Cores were created. Where the original Dragon Lord made his pact with power." Sage's eyes—which seemed to shift color with each heartbeat—fixed on Lioran. "To the Sundered Peaks, where the Eternal Dragon King sleeps. Three days' hard ride west."
The ember pulsed at the mention of the Eternal Dragon King. Recognition. Memory. Something ancient stirring.
"That's suicide," Aldren said flatly. "The Sundered Peaks are forbidden lands. Nothing lives there. And waking the Dragon King—"
"I'm not suggesting we wake it," Sage interrupted. "Just visit the place where Dragon Lord and Dragon King first fought. Where the Cores were scattered. The residual power there might be enough to stabilize what's breaking inside your friend."
"Or kill him faster," Kaelen muttered.
"Also possible," Sage admitted. "But at this rate, he dies within a week regardless. At least my way, he dies trying something instead of just... fracturing."
Lioran felt another crack inside, felt the ember splitting further. Sage was right—he was running out of time.
"I'll go," he said.
"Lioran, no—" Mira began.
"I'll go," he repeated. "But not alone. Renn, you come with me. Your Ice Core might be part of the stabilization solution. Kaelen, protect Mira and Elara. Get to the Continental Council. Speak for Thornhaven. Don't let my... difficulties... destroy what we've built."
He looked at each of them—his mother, his first follower, his steadfast knight, his sister in faith. "Three days. If I'm not back in three days, assume I failed. Proceed without me."
"And if you succeed?" Mira asked, tears streaming down her face.
"Then I return whole, and we face the Council together. Either way—" The ember cracked again, pain lancing through him. "—this ends soon."
Sage nodded approvingly. "Smart choice. We leave in an hour. Pack light, expect hardship, and prepare to confront things you thought were legends."
The stranger disappeared back into shadows, leaving Lioran to face his companions' fear and doubt.
"This could be the end," Kaelen said quietly.
"Yes," Lioran agreed. "But staying here definitely is. At least this way, I'm choosing my ending."
He had one hour to prepare for a journey that might save him or destroy him.
One hour before riding toward the place where Dragon Lords were born—and died.
The ember pulsed agreement, fractured but not yet broken.
There was still time.
Barely.