Ahead lay a scene from Hell. A vast plain of solid rock was being devoured pitilessly by a spreading red tongue of moving, grinding lava. Fizz had to squint her eyes against the searing light. Its heat prickled her cheeks, turning them a very warm pink. She had no doubt that any closer an approach would result in a fiery death. Turning her head to see how her companions were faring against this onslaught was colourful; for they too were painted pink by the fierce light and their wings shimmered in the updraft of hot air.