Out before me the land stretched far and wide,
but the horizon revealed the fire giants in their pride.
A cold and twisted land of endless contortion,
ever haunted by its mythical proportions.
A place where land meets the sky and clouds dwelled below,
a sacred veil of gas through which man could not go.
Of the earthly seasons there was but one,
a hot molten draft of cloud to block out the sun.
A barren wasteland of hewn rock and stone,
filled with cracked fissures that whistled in the wind blown.
Ancient far beyond the reckoning of time,
they tower and grow in an endless race and climb.
Even when we were long gone, the fire giants remained,
creating a world of tiered valleys shaped by fiery cascade.