The first night they spend together, his whole chest goes molten — and the crack runs deeper.

n

Ivy didn't accept the locked gate or the note. She came back, and Soren — against every centuries-old instinct that tells him he's a tool — let her in. For the first time, the forge-keeper lets himself be wanted all the way, and it is molten and warm and the closest thing to whole he's ever felt: seams flaring gold, clay softening and re-setting against her, the forge-thrum singing through them both.

n

But every degree of that heat is written on his body as a deepening crack — and the town's lore-keeper delivers the cruel truth. There's only one cure, and it's the forbidden one: fire a true-name token and place his unmaking in Ivy's hands. No golem ever has.

n

The closer they get, the worse he breaks. And when the choice finally comes, Soren does the thing his whole life trained him to do — he refuses, seals the yard, and goes cold rather than trust her with the power to end him.

n

Ivy returns at dawn to find him dormant. Dark seams. Still as fired stone.

n

Hot Enough to Break

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