In the northern corner of the Dyson Kingdom, the winds blew in straight from the sea so that their force was strong and wild. When the cold wind swept through the blazing fire, its flames intensified, making them more perilous. The hot wind felt like it had come right from the mouth of a volcano. It was hot enough to burn one’s skin then drag them to hell in its fire. The red and orange flames had swallowed all the surrounding light from the land around it. It was all quite frightening, but what was burning in the middle of the woods was not a volcano but a once large and beautiful packhouse.
The unpleasant smell of burning houses dominated the air. Their pieces falling apart one by one as they collapsed, turning into ashes. All that remained of the houses were the foundations, firm and
