The Molten Barrow

An Ashwalker burial hall cut into a cold lava tube, its niches lined with volcanic glass — the oldest Ashwalker dead, and the shades of them that the sealing rites no longer hold.

Stone hot to the hand, niches glassed by ancient flow-heat, the smell of sulfur under the ash-incense the Ashwalkers leave at the mouth. The first hall is still tended; the inner halls have not been entered in a generation. Scorched shades walk there now.