The journey from the Obsidian Mines to the Forge of the Flamebringer took them through treacherous terrain. The group traversed jagged cliffs, crossed rivers of molten lava, and avoided volcanic eruptions that threatened to consume everything in their path. The sky above was a swirling mass of ash and fire, casting an eerie red glow over the landscape.
Victor led the group, clutching the Obsidian Core tightly in his hands. The artifact pulsed with heat and energy, a constant reminder of the power they now carried. Each step brought them closer to the forge, a place whispered about in both legend and fear.
"Are we sure this is the right way?" Marcus asked, wiping sweat from his brow. His armor, usually a source of comfort, felt like a furnace in the oppressive heat.
Lyra consulted the ancient map they had acquired from a local merchant. "It should be just beyond the next ridge. The Forge of the Flamebringer lies at the heart of the Molten Fields."