The road stretched ahead of them, cracked and uneven, with faint markings barely visible under the dust. Ember moved steadily over the broken asphalt, her clawed hooves clicking against the surface as her scaled body shifted with each step. Jenny sat in front for balance, her left hand gripping the saddle horn while her right shoulder—wrapped in rough, blood-streaked bandages—pressed lightly against Reed’s chest. She couldn’t hold onto him like a passenger might, but this way, his steady presence at her back kept her anchored. Reed held the reins loosely, his posture relaxed yet ready, guiding Ember with an ease that came from years of riding. Ember didn’t seem to mind the arrangement, her sinewy frame and thick hide making the journey seem almost effortless.

Jenny’s gaze wandered as they traveled. The world around her felt like a collision of two entirely different realities. On one side, there were the remnants of the old world—the rusting hulks of broken cars scattered along the roadside, faded road signs with indecipherable letters, the faintly visible lines of the asphalt beneath them. And then there were the impossibilities—the jagged rocks glowing faintly with green energy, a spire in the distance pulsing with a rhythm that seemed almost alive, and the dragonhorse beneath her, its scaled hide radiating a faint warmth.

“It’s weird,” she said, breaking the silence. Her voice was thoughtful, almost distant.

“What is?” Reed asked, his arms loosely resting around her sides, his posture relaxed.

Jenny gestured ahead with her chin. “All of this. The road, the cars... and then all that magic crap. It’s like someone slammed two different worlds together and said, ‘Good luck.’”

Reed chuckled. “Welcome to the wasteland, kid. It’s all we’ve ever known.”

“Not me,” Jenny said quietly, her gray eyes lingering on a nearby car carcass. Its frame was rusted through, the windshield shattered, and vines twisted through the remnants of the engine. “Back in the Bunker, we used to see pictures of these things. Cars, I mean.”

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Reed tilted his head. “Cars?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice soft with memory. “They were... machines. People used to ride in them instead of animals like Ember. Some of them could go faster than anything you can imagine, and you didn’t even have to ride outside—you’d sit inside, protected from the weather.”

Reed raised an eyebrow. “Inside? What’s the point of that?”

Jenny smirked faintly. “Comfort, I guess. And they didn’t need food or water. Just... fuel.”

“Fuel?” Reed echoed skeptically. “What, like fire?”

“Sort of,” Jenny said. “But it wasn’t just that. It was this refined liquid—gasoline. They’d pour it into the car, and then the engine would use it to make the wheels move.”

Reed frowned, his disbelief clear. “And people thought that was better than something like Ember? She’s faster, tougher, and doesn’t rust when it rains.”

Jenny laughed, the sound light but genuine. “I guess people back then weren’t exactly practical. It was all about convenience. And they didn’t have to deal with...” She gestured vaguely to a cluster of pulsating rocks nearby, their glow intensifying as Ember passed. “Whatever the hell this stuff is.”

Reed followed her gaze and snorted. “Yeah, well, magic rocks weren’t part of the deal back then, huh?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “It was all... orderly. Clean, smooth roads, shiny cars, everything working the way it was supposed to. At least, that’s what the pictures looked like.” Her voice softened, and she glanced down at the road beneath them. “Guess it didn’t last.”

Reed was silent for a moment, then leaned slightly forward, his chin near her shoulder. “Sounds like a boring way to live. No dragonhorses, no magic, just... what? Lines on a road and machines that break down if you look at them wrong?”

Jenny smirked again, but there was something wistful in her eyes. “Maybe it was boring. But it was safe.”

Reed grunted, as though he didn’t quite believe her. “Safe’s overrated.”

Jenny didn’t argue. She let the silence stretch between them as they rode, the old and new worlds continuing to blur and clash around them. Ahead, the faint outline of jagged cliffs began to rise on the horizon—their destination, and the place where safety would mean nothing at all.