Molten Mountain was exactly as its name suggested, a melting mess of magma and ocean blood that never stopped flowing from its bubbling vent.
Even the surrounding air melted into wriggling fluids that dropped the temperature to a cryonic abyss.
A cluster of Cryobunnies was always seen soaking in the overflowing bubble bath - a temporary retreat before embarking the Galactic Path to become a Sunbunny.
The Path was not for the faintest of fluff, for it demanded transformation beyond body and soul, not to decay but to deconstruct, and not to die but to be unalive.
As the ground shook, dusts and diamonds formed into bunnies, who spent their eternity hopping like corn popping on a boiling stove, its fire the invincible wrath underground, screaming to devour the softness of the world above.
It was not the dust bunnies that they desired, it was the Sunbunny.
One who kept the volcanoes burning, one whose blood shielded the underworld and hardened into crust so dense, gravity altered itself to repel all things soft and fluffy.
In a lifetime, Cryobunnies would make sixty-nine thousand hops to reach the mountain top; the last nine being tribute to the nine successors; whose molten lava formed the first layer that separated heaven and hell; sealing the underworld from plunging everything into darkness.
Unsurprisingly, there were bunnies who were adamant to serve for the greater good; the thought of freezing, thawing, and melting of oneself scarred the innocent; and was it worth the pain to be immortalized by generations to come?
What were the forebunnies trying to bury so thoroughly that was forbidden to see the light of day?
Are we burying ourselves in softness just as we buried whatever's underneath in darkness?
As the volcanoes erupted more fiercely than ever, all bunnies were no doubt, in agreement that, yes, it was too hot to think straight, and that yes, a nice cold, icy bath would do good to cool ourselves down.