In the belly of the Earthen Furnace, where the stones singe and the air reeks of scorched ash, Crispin leads the way. His hooves, hardened by decades of tread in this unforgiving place, make no sound upon the scorched ground. Gideon, limping along in his shadow, is less graceful. The thick haze of smoke clings to his mane, and his breath comes in uneven gasps. Yet, even in his failure, he presses on, seeking the spark of magic he’s always been denied. “Safety’s an illusio...

The Earthen Furnace gaped like the mouth of an ancient god, its heat suffocating, oppressive. Smoke curled from every crevice of the fractured earth, obscuring the jagged pillars and twisting tunnels in ashen grey. The air was thick with the scent of scorched stone and something darker, older. Silence, save for the low groan of the dungeon’s breath, made the place feel less like a ruin and more like a slumbering beast. Gideon, his robes stained with the soot of failed spells, muttere...

Gideon stepped into the chamber, his hooves sinking softly into the moss-covered stone beneath him. The air was damp, thick with the scent of earth and green things, and the walls shimmered with creeping vines that tangled in delicate spirals, their leaves glowing faintly with the strange light of the Overgrown Caverns. Here, just below the surface, life thrived in defiance of the forgotten ruins that held it, as if the world itself was trying to reclaim what had been lost to time. He�...