He sprang to the first block. It held firm, the rune-light blooming around his boots and shutting out the furnace wind.
"Stay on my heels, one stone at a time. Whatever you do, don't slip."
Flaxseed drew a steadying breath and followed, inching forward with the care of a man crossing glass.
A low roar drifted up from beneath the magma, something enormous rolling in the fire below and scraping at ancient nerves the way fingernails scrape old wood.
They were three stones from safety when a molten wave exploded upward.
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