Ignis POV.
Heat is the only true language of the cosmos. Everything else is just waiting to burn.
I sit upon my throne of archaic iron, watching the rivers of liquid starlight and liquid magma churn beneath the glass floors of the Volcanic Pavilion. My domain is loud. It crackles with the endless symphony of destruction and rebirth.
Yet, today, the noise bores me. The faith energy trickling up from my designated lower realms is steady, predictable, and utterly uninspiring. I am Ignis, the God of Searing Flame, and I am starving for a real conflagration.
Crash!
I crush a diamond goblet in my grip. The precious gems melt into slag between my fingers, dripping onto the charred floor. The lesser fire deities in my court flinch. They cower behind pillars of swirling plasma, terrified that my boredom will suddenly turn into a violent execution.
