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But it was not enough.

She rose from her throne, stepping forward as her fire followed her will.

She pressed her hand against the scorched earth—and from beneath her fingertips, life erupted.

Not in the way of forests or rivers, but in the way her divinity dictated.

Hearths began to take shape—great and small, floating islands of stone and fire, each burning with a welcoming glow. These would be places of refuge, homes for those seeking warmth, seeking solace.

From the flames, beings began to emerge.

First were the Keepers of the Hearth, spirits wreathed in gentle embers, taking form as humanoid figures with smoldering eyes and soft, flickering bodies. They would tend to the fires of this world, ensuring that no warmth ever faded.

Next came the Infernal Sentinels, beings of living magma with blackened armor-like hides. They would be the watchers, the protectors—ensuring that no force could ever shatter the bonds Ursula sought to forge.