Far south of Ntropy, where the waters darken and steam rises from the sea at dawn, lie the Fire Isles—an archipelago born not of tectonics, but of draconic war.
Long ago, when the final battles between metallic and chromatic dragons scorched the skies, the victors cast the fallen bodies of their enemies into the Sea of Madness. There, the colossal corpses sank, cooling slowly beneath the waves. Over centuries, coral clung to scale, vines wrapped around bone, and roots bored into hollowed ribcages. Nature claimed what war abandoned. Stone formed, soil gathered, and eventually entire islands rose to the surface—each one grown around the remains of a dead dragon.
From above, the Fire Isles appear lush and almost inviting: emerald canopies of palm and jungle trees sway in hot ocean winds, beaches of black volcanic sand ring the shores, and the air hums with insect life and distant bird calls. At the heart of the archipelago, a smaller central island rises higher than the rest, crowned by a dormant-looking volcano. Thin plumes of smoke still curl from its peak, and at night its crater glows faintly red, like a sleeping eye.
Fire Genasi dwell openly on the surface, their settlements woven seamlessly into the jungle. Their homes are built from volcanic stone and living wood, warmed by the land itself. To outsiders, the genasi appear to be the sole intelligent inhabitants of the Fire Isles—fierce protectors of their territory who drive away trespassers with equal parts warning and flame.