She knew this place.
She had heard of it. Every warrior in the eastern provinces had heard of it. The Forge of the Old Drake. A stretch of active volcanic landscape three ridges east of the dead zone where the earth had never cooled. The temperature at ground level was enough to char skin in minutes. No human could enter. No creature that was not fire-adapted could survive here.
She was surviving.
She looked at her bare feet on the black rock. She was not burning. She was not charring. She was not even uncomfortable, despite being naked in a lava field.
She looked at Raven.
He was walking forward with his hand on her waist and his cock still between her thighs. The orange light of the lava cracks caught his face. He looked completely at ease. The heat did not touch him.
