“Wait, what did you just…?” I fumble, blinking at him. “Did you… are you—did you heat the rock?”
Solan’s eyes flash with a hint of amusement as he watches my reaction. “Yes. Heat manipulation is a skill my kind are born with,” he says, voice calm, as if casually discussing the weather. “Pyronox like me use heat for all manner of things, though it’s mostly practical. We’re not made to walk through flames,” he adds, maybe to reassure me. “It’s more about control. Like this.” He lifts his hand, and I notice how the stone has taken on a perfect, solid shape—a makeshift hook embedded in the rock itself.
A surge of questions bubble to the surface. “So… you’re telling me you just reshape rock by touch? And you don’t get burned? Can you, I don’t know, melt metal and other stuff too?”
He chuckles, a low sound that seems to vibrate through the very ground we’re standing on. “We can, though it depends on what we’re working with. Some Pyronox focus their ability tomanipulate hotter or harder substances, but most of us only learn to use it with what we need, like tools, barriers, or”—he gestures at the rock—“simple things like this.”
My thoughts whirl as I loop Geralt’s reins around the hook. The makeshift tie-off is strong and solid, and the way Solan manipulated it so effortlessly was like watching someone bend time itself, skipping the slow process of shaping and eroding rock.
Awe for him fills my chest, even as my mind races with possibilities. “So… you’re, like, walking furnaces? This heat power—you justhaveit?”
Solan’s lips quirk in a grin, though his expression turns thoughtful. “Not quite furnaces, but yes, our bodies produce and control heat to a degree that we can direct it outwards. It’s a skill that grows with time, as natural to us as breathing. We don’t think of it as unusual.”
I shake my head, almost laughing at his understatement. “Well, it’s a hell of a lot more unusual than toast.”
A smile tilts his lips, revealing those fangs, and once again, I can’t help but wonder what they would feel like dragging across my skin. Fuck, I need to prioritise. Being turned on at all, let alone by a monster species, is hardly what I should be focussing on.
Though, maybe in this world, I’m the monster.
I clear my throat and look towards the distant buildings. Without a word, which I’m grateful for, Solan starts moving, leading me carefully around the boulders and towards a tree line. There’s an element of cover here as we—okay,I—stumble over branches.
Then I see it. A figure moving in the distance.
We both stop and scramble to the ground, where Solan immediately uses the spyglass.
“Here,” he says, passing it to me after a few seconds.
Grateful, I take it and look through the spyglass, the view before me zooming in and coming into sharp focus. My heart leaps, only to freeze in my chest as I recognise that it’s some other kind of creature entirely.
“Is that a Glowranth?” I whisper. We’re a good distance away, but after witnessing Solan’s ability, there’s no saying that the home species doesn’t have super hearing or something.
“Yes.”
The creature—theGlowranth—is humanoid but definitely… other. But fuck if the creature doesn’t look like something a kid would create at school when drawing the monsters hidden away in their closet.
Tall and slender, with sinewy limbs covered in smooth, dark blue skin that glistens faintly in the greenish light, the Glowranth stands on two legs. Its hands have three fingers, each one tipped with a slight, almost-clawlike curve, which it flexes with each movement. A faint bioluminescent glow runs along the ridges of its arms and neck, casting it in an eerie light. As it moves, the light shifts and pulses, reflecting…. Hell, it could be emotions or something for all I know.
What shocks me even more is what the monster has with it. Gertie stands beside the Glowranth, halter secured with some sort of twisted metal rein that appears both crude and functional. The horse looks, well, calm, even, but the fact that this Glowranth has it means something deeply unsettling—they’ve reached the rift point, found my home—and likely my sister’s—and investigated.
Solan’s tense stance confirms that I’m not alone in feeling this dread.
“Who…whatare they doing?” I whisper, barely daring to breathe.
He squints, watching the Glowranth as it leads the horse somewhere. “He doesn’t look like he’s a part of the royal guard. Maybe he lives in the surrounds.”
A sound breaks my focus, and I glance back towards the handful of small structures on the training grounds where several heavily armoured figures now stride into view. Their heights rival Solan’s, their builds solid and imposing. Each one is dressed in layers of protective armour, dark metallic with flashes of orange—a clear uniform. The leader wears a tall helm marked with jagged symbols that stand out like scars against the dull metal. They’re speaking loudly, their language strange, guttural, with a cadence that sends shivers down my spine.
Despite their bulk, they appear to be the same species as the Glowranth with the horse. Considering humans vary in shape, size, and colour, it makes sense that individuals within a species aren’t identical.
“They’re part of the royal guard,” Solan says, answering my unspoken question. He focusses, lips tightening as he listens intently. “They’re questioning the Glowranth with the horse, asking about the appearance of… foreign creatures and the changes in the land.”
My pulse races. “So, they know? They know something’s wrong?”
“They suspect,” he says grimly, gaze still fixed on the scene. “But for now, they’re probing for answers. They’re asking the Glowranth if he’s seen anything unusual, any signs of intruders… which he’ll report.”
“And anything about the heir?” Obviously, any Glowranth going missing and appearing in my dimension isn’t ideal, but it being the royal heir seems like it would be seriously bad news.
I pass him the spyglass, and after a beat, he shakes his head. “No one seems alarmed.”
