The mountains are the border between our kingdom and the realm of the fire giants. Look far eastward. See how the peaks turn black? Their forges must burn night and day to mark the mountains so. Some mornings, sunrise dims from the smoke and soot. Long have we watched the pass and tallied our fortunes at its stillness. Recently, though, there are signs our luck is turning. Fiery orbs sail through the night skies and land too near these woods. Scouts report deep craters shrouded in smoke and ash. One sits a mere hour’s walk from this outpost. I fear the enemy makes ready some terrible weapon . . .
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