Hope vanished as the iron door clanged shut. Cole pounded hist fists against the fixture, but not even the faintest echo answered him. The only way forward for him was the fire line.
A thin line of molten stone stretch before him into the distance, bordered by steep, unforgiving slopes on either side. Many smaller streaks lined the cavern far below; the fiery veins of this prison's otherwise cold heart. Besides the fire line and its siblings far below, there was no light.
Cole knew not what lay ahead, but against all instinct, he knew remaining by the comfort of the iron door was the worst thing he could do. It would not open for him again -- not from this side anyway -- and any hope of having what lay on the other side was in vain. The only way forward was the fire line.
Cole took his last ordinary breath, then his first step. Searing pain engulfed his foot and had to fight the urge to jump back. Returning to the iron door would only mean taking this first step again. The least number of steps on the fire line, the better. So, with another step, Cole continued his sentence. And he'd continue it for a long time.
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