He had done it. Against all odds, he had claimed the prize. Now, all he needed was the strength to survive what came next.
The air was thick with the sour stench of sulfur, hot enough to sear the lungs with each shallow breath. At the top of the smoking volcano, the surgeon knelt on cracked, blackened stones that glowed with ember-like heat, his hands quaking as he stared at the smooth, malevolent orb in his palm. It seemed to pulse with a sickly yellow light, contrasting starkly against the charred, dead rocks around him, a beacon of dark promise and imminent doom.
All around, waves of molten rock bubbled and hissed, sending up plumes of ash and choking smoke. The lava flows and charred earth reminded him that he stood upon nature's own wrath, and just as it cared nothing for his survival, so did the orb in his hand. He knew it would devour him without hesitation, leeching his mind dry and filling his skull with horrors.
