Hila's powerful leaps took him high above the volcanic peaks, the air scorching his face. He zeroed in on a particular volcano, its fiery maw erupting in a constant dance of destruction and creation.
With a practiced maneuver, he dove into the swirling vortex of molten rock.
Inside the volcano, the heat was unimaginable, yet Hila seemed unfazed. He landed on a solid platform that jutted out from the volcano's inner wall.
There, amidst the churning lava, lay a woman unlike any other.
Her name was Mercy, and she was the living embodiment of the volcano itself. Her fiery hair shimmered like molten rock, and her eyes glowed with an infernal intensity. She stirred at Hila's arrival, reaching for a pair of crimson glasses that lay beside her simple lava-rock bed. Slipping them on, she peered at him with amusement.
"Oh~ King Hila," she drawled, her voice a low rumble like distant thunder, "what brings you to my humble abode?"
