The sky burned with thick and suffocating ash, rolling endlessly across a horizon painted in hues of ember-red and soot-black. Clouds churned overhead like wounded beasts, illuminated from beneath by rivers of lava that cut through the land in glowing veins.
This was a Drakenar region.
The earth itself had been reshaped with volcanic spires jutted skyward like broken teeth, magma bubbled through cracked stone, and the air vibrated with oppressive heat that would have incinerated unprotected humans in seconds.
Hundreds of medieval-looking dark structures stood across the terrain. They were fortresses and towers built from smooth-like black stone, reinforced with molten metal and etched with runes that glowed faintly crimson. These were not ruins.
They were strongholds.
And now, they were burning.
