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Chapter 128 - Dead Forge VII

The forge howled as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Pyraestus raised his hand, and the molten rivers that lined the chamber tore free of their channels—spiraling upward like serpents of liquid gold. They coiled above him, weaving a vast halo of burning sigils that pulsed in rhythm with his heart. Every symbol burned with divine weight, their heat so intense that even the stone cried in molten tears.

"Behold the True Corefire," the drake-lord intoned, voice echoing through metal, stone, and soul alike. "The origin of all heat, all life, all wrath. To stand within it is to stand within creation itself."

Each word warped the air. The forge bent to him. The sigils spun faster—drawing energy from the molten rivers, from the very mana in the atmosphere.

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