The Valley of Aethelgard was a place of diverse and terrifying beauty. There were the tranquil mists, the thundering waterfall, the mirror-like lake... and then, there was the Vent.
It was a scar in the earth, tucked away in the northernmost corner of the valley, where the lush green moss gave way to jagged, blackened rock. Here, the ground hissed. Plumes of sulfurous steam erupted from fissures in the stone, carrying with them the crushing heat of the planet's core.
Kairen sat cross-legged on a flat slab of obsidian, directly over a vein of magma deep beneath the crust. The heat was oppressive. It wasn't just warm; it was a physical weight, pressing against his skin, drying his throat, making the air shimmer and dance before his eyes. Sweat didn't just drip; it evaporated the moment it touched his skin.
