After a long journey across fractured space, Cain finally stood upon a continent unlike any he had yet encountered—a land that was little more than one vast volcanic range.
Everywhere he looked, fire and civilization intertwined. Where other continents would boast rivers of water, here only streams of molten lava flowed, glowing serpents of crimson winding between the mountains. Houses, temples, and towers were built high upon cliffsides or suspended upon terraces carved into the volcanoes themselves, elevated above the violent bursts of molten stone that erupted from the earth. The sky was veiled in grey, a canopy of ash and smoke, the air choked with heat and the iron scent of burning stone.
It was not a place where mortals could thrive. Even many cultivators would have struggled to endure such an environment. Yet life persevered, nurtured not despite the land but because of it.
