Some say the Moltenflit necklace was born in the heart of the forge, where fire meets wingbeat and the air shivers with heat. Others whisper she darted out from the same blaze that birthed her sister Sundart, carrying the forge’s last embers in her wake.
Carnelian glows like coals deep in the bed of a fire. Goldstone flickers with embered gleam. Citrine burns with captured sunlight. And those carved wooden beads—smooth, warm, and shaped as if to suggest wings—hint at a creature that flits through the smoke as easily as through the air.
If Sundart is the straight shot, Moltenflit is the ricochet—slipping between sparks, twisting through currents, impossible to pin down. Together, they’re a pair of flame-born wanderers, forged in the same heat but forever chasing their own bright paths.
