Some years later...
On a distant world bathed in flame, the planet Kronyx turned slowly beneath the weight of its triple suns. The sky was a blazing orange canvas, streaked with molten clouds, and hanging above the jagged peaks of obsidian mountains were three suns, their reflections shimmering over rivers of lava that flowed like veins through the land.
This was a planet where oceans burned instead of surged. Where lava lakes gurgled with soft, rhythmic hisses. Where humanoids of fire, the Krovekans, lived in a harmony only those born of flame could understand.
In the molten city of Zal'Torrah, spires made of blackrock towered high. On narrow bridges suspended above the lava, the Krovekans walked—fiery red and orange skin glistening, two antennae rising from their heads, sensing every heat shift in the air. The smell of sulfur and embers filled the streets like perfume.
Children with gleaming copper eyes dashed playfully between magma vents.
