These are the incinerated ones, the ever burning, exempt from the vulnerability of temperated form, instead ever moving between modes of existence. Crackle and combustion is their chorus, while the maddening deafness of the mirage is their song.
From the days of old Arcania the atronach and birds of the phoenix were the main habitants of the smoldering sea. The lizard people also would call it their home. It is a place of tumulturous heat that will cause corrosion of any sapient mind. The temperatures seem to devour the very fabric of time, so much that it often leads to visual illusions and false memories for the faint of heart.
Beings of a stronger constitution seek this world as a portal to the spirit dimension, letting the endless waves of heat fuel their endeavour.