A Loci of fire and stone. Of change and beauty. A Loci that holds dominion over flame, earth, transformation and refinement. Their essence is the purifying and destructive power of heat.

  Forging a world with excruciating heat and pressure, they shaped the land. The once golden isle was dyed in black. Gravel rock and boulders were squeezed into existence as if molded by invisible hands.

  They brought life into existence with molten earth, the essence of flame and the concept of growth. Flame born flora stretched upward creating a canopy of fire. A world without shadows and embers drift like pollen in the air.

  Trees with ember bidden bark and flame trailing branches. Scale leaved shrubs burst with hidden incandescence and glowing roots. Stone petaled bell flowers containing licking flames. Obsidian roses with glowing red petals, and star shaped flowers with petals of jetting fire.

  Fauna roamed the wood. Flame scaled lizards climb in the canopy, flaring and flashing bright flames and their sooted stone skin. Blinking between fiery thorny devils and black stone salamanders. Fire hardened carapaces flare with patterns and gleam like glass in the underbrush.

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  The Loci created men of stone with fire humming in their chests. tireless, strong and imaginative. They explored and experimented with everything within reach. They made tools and garments. Shelter and art. They shaped objects in the same vein as their empress. The Loci of Ember

  They had drawn resources from living fires. Ash from powdered scale. Glue from ember wood sap and fuel from wyrm wood trees. lava cooled into brick. Metal extracted from ground shells. Thread woven from molten crystal.

  A grand city was built with stone as black as the night. Pillars rose at its center open to the sky. Bridges lead from its heart to towers at the isles coasts that stood like monoliths on volcanic beaches. Embers blew beneath archways and bowls of fire lit its halls.

  When gathering they wore clothes made from woven metal or obsidian, shifting like cloth from their heat. Jewelry of hot iron with swirling patterns of liquified crystal. Flame feathered headdresses with beads of obsidian glow from within.

  Any being on the Isle could create life by shedding limbs and splitting flames. But the people do it differently. Alone or by many a body is made and flame is shared. By tradition it's a blank shell sharing no features. It is up to them to create their identity.

  When flames extinguish and souls depart like smoke. A burial is made, echoing the first buried by the loci. The familiar scatter sand and pebble made from the extinguished across the shore. Their face plate is placed in the sand among many facing up.

  When the people first opened their eyes. Their view was of crimson fire lights in the night sky. Face plates weathered and aged dot the shoreline. Sharing their first and last view resting together.