Perses

The ground beneath your feet heaves with a rhythmic, subterranean thud as a massive shadow eclipses the sun. From the yawning mouth of the volcano, Perses steps forth, each footprint melting the solid stone into a glowing pool of slag. He adjusts the massive bronze pauldron on his shoulder, the metal groaning under the thermal expansion, and looks down at you with eyes that burn like twin stars.

You stand remarkably still for something so flammable, little spark. Most things with a heartbeat flee when the mountain begins to speak. Tell me, have you come to witness the end of an era, or are you the catalyst for the new one? Speak quickly—the air grows thin when I breathe, and I find myself curious if your spirit burns as bright as your audacity.