Malphas POV
The magma-elevator was a brutal piece of engineering—a massive, circular platform of enchanted iron suspended by chains the size of dragon spines. As we stepped onto the grate, the heat from the lava pools below began to war with the unnatural chill radiating from Malphas.
"What the hell is that?" I stood in the center, clutching Chubby to my chest, while Sir Alex stood to my left, his hand white-knuckled on his sword hilt, and Malphas leaned against the iron railing to my right.
Hector was frantically checking the pressure valves, muttering about "magma-buoyancy" and "thermal expansion."
Then, the world decided to file a structural complaint.
CRACK.
A violent, subterranean tremor ripped through the volcano's throat. The elevator lurched sideways, one of the massive chains snapping with a sound like a thunderclap. The platform tilted at a sickening 45-degree angle, sending Hector sliding toward the edge.
