The clang of hammers and the roar of the molten rivers echoed like a symphony through the cavern as Branthor led the group onward throughout The HeartForge on the tour.
The oppressive heat all around the various students had quickly become a steady rhythm against their enchanted barriers, and the sound of the forge's beating heart resonated through every breath they took.
Every breath the student took formed as visible steam as they walked forward. The bridge the group was walking on curved around the immense molten lake that released an outrageous amount of heat around them.
The bridge was winding towards a titanic gate carved from obsidian and crimson steel.
Symbols older than the current written language itself were etched into its surface, glowing faintly with a dim, ancient pulse, alive, as if the gate itself remembered every spark that had ever been struck upon it.
