Long have there been stories of something living in the Devil’s Cauldron, something swimming deep in the churning lava of the volcano. One story speaks of a small tribe that dwelled at the base of the volcano, a tribe that was bidden to sacrifice one of their own, and cast them into the fiery maw. One by one they were cast into the flames until none were left to carry on their legacy, and none remember their name.

Other stories speak of something rising up, a great bird with feathers made of dripping fire, a bird that will fly overhead, setting the sky aflame and scorching the islands below. Some pray to their gods when the ground quivers with the distant rumblings of the volcano.

One sailor’s tale claims that those unfortunate enough to become marooned on nearby islands through punishment or calamity will hear whispers in the depths of the night, coming from the very fires that provide warmth. These whispers seem to drive mad those that would listen, directing them to set the world aflame.