Pyronox's silence was brief, a gathering of breath. "Your forefathers, the ones who led the first war against the winter-blessed, they were the beginning. Magic does not choose by birth, Eris. It never did. It chose the soul. Fire chose your line, and ice chose others. It was not decided by blood, but by the temperament of the spirit."
He paused, his eyes reflecting a distant, flickering light. "But your forefathers were not content with what was chosen for them. They did not want to be stewards of the fire; they wanted to be its masters. They wanted more than a blessing. They wanted the source."
"And?" I pressed, leaning forward.
"They found a way," he said, his voice careful, as if measuring the weight of the words. "They found a way to freeze my heart."
I went perfectly still. Of all the theories I had constructed, of all the dark rituals I had imagined Ellyn's theories might contain, this hadn't even crossed my mind.
