The Volcano’s “Voice”

The jungle choked on its breath. Ash hung like a funeral shroud over Komodo Island, the air thick with sulfur and the metallic tang of dread. Felix stalked through the haze, boots crunching over volcanic rock, his rage a living thing. Behind him, David stood frozen, the journal in his grip trembling like a leaf in a storm.

“You think hope will stop them?” Felix whirled, his voice raw, cracked at the edges. “They burned villages, David. Slaughtered families. Took everything.” A Komodo dragon hissed from the shadows, its golden eyes reflecting the fury in Felix’s own.

David stepped forward, the journal’s pages fluttering like wounded birds. “And what’s your plan? Burn the island too? Become just like them?” His words hung in the toxic air, sharp as knives.

Felix’s fist struck a gnarled tree. The trunk shuddered, raining ash like corrupted snow. “I’d rather turn this place to glass than let the Syndicate win!”