Chapter: Blistering pathway
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The entrance to the Blistered Path was a jagged tear in the volcanic wall, wide enough for three people to pass shoulder to shoulder, but shrouded in steam that hissed out like a living thing. The air inside shimmered with heat, and every exhale felt heavy, as though the tunnels were swallowing their breath.
Lira led the way, lantern in hand, its light warped by waves of thermal distortion. "Keep your voices low. The echoes down here don't just bounce—they attract."
"...Attract what?" Oliver asked, whispering anyway.
"The things that hunt by sound," Lira replied simply.
Rosemary walked gracefully despite the uneven stone. Her yellow dress had changed—the hem shifting like woven flame, enchanted to resist cinders. She glanced back. "Stay close. It's easy to mistake illusions for passages in this place."
The deeper they went, the stranger it became. Gemstone veins ran like glowing scars through the walls—ruby, topaz, sapphire—each casting faint light that painted the rock in shifting colors. Pools of bubbling magma hissed and spat as if alive, and thin cracks in the ceiling wept streams of superheated water.
Oliver slowed near one of the gem-veined walls. His eyes widened. "Hold up… Are you saying… I can just take this?" He tapped a ruby cluster.
Lira didn't stop walking. "If you can pry it out before something pries your skull open, then yes."
Oliver grinned. "Better than Earth already." He pocketed a small loose ruby, feeling it pulse faintly against his palm.
The steam grew denser until their lanterns glowed like smudges in fog. Sorrel's fur bristled; beads of sweat traced down his neck, only to evaporate instantly. He flicked his wrist, and a thin mist of conjured water spread through the tunnel. The temperature around them dropped a fraction.
"Nice," Oliver muttered. "Personal AC."
But Sorrel wasn't smiling. His ears twitched. "Something's here."
At first, Oliver thought it was just the shadows of the steam twisting unnaturally. But then he noticed—their shadows were moving even when they stood still.
Long, stretched silhouettes peeled themselves from the walls—figures with no faces, only burning eyes where none should be. The Pyre Wraiths. They flickered like flame caught in wind, whispering in a chorus too faint to understand.
Rosemary lifted her hand, a small golden flame gathering in her palm. "They won't harm us unless provoked—"
One wraith lunged, its clawed hand reaching toward Oliver's chest.
Oliver stumbled back. "That seems pretty damn provoked to me!"
Sorrel stepped forward, water rippling off his fur in a sudden burst. A wave of silvery-blue sprayed outward, crashing against the lunging shadow. The wraith hissed like boiling oil, its form wavering and thinning before it retreated into the stone.
The others halted their advance, watching… waiting.
"They're testing us," Sorrel murmured, his water pooling faintly at his claws. "They want to know if we'll burn… or fight back."
Lira's expression sharpened. "Then keep your water ready, otter-boy. They'll stalk us the whole way."
Rosemary's flame dimmed slightly, though she remained composed. "The Steam Gardens aren't far ahead. If we make it there, their influence should weaken."
The group pressed on, the tunnel widening into a cavern where white steam rolled across the floor like fog over a lake. Strange stalks of blackened plants swayed in the haze, their flowers glowing faintly like embers—Ash Bloom Petals.
Oliver crouched, reaching for one. The petal's glow flickered as though about to vanish.
"Wait!" Lira snapped. She tossed him a glass vial. "Touch it with your hands, and it'll crumble to ash. Seal it before it breathes the open air."
Oliver carefully plucked the petal, sliding it into the vial. The glow steadied. He exhaled. "One down. How many to go?"
Lira scanned the garden. "Enough to make you wish you stayed unemployed back in your world."
Behind them, the steam shifted again, faint whispers rising. The Pyre Wraiths hadn't left—they were waiting at the cavern's edge, watching.
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