Brendan stared at the creature in the pale moonlight, transfixed by the silvery petals that glistened beneath that perfect purity. It was not until his final breath that he gathered his wits enough to scream after the thing had descended on him, all muscle and thorns and hard, barklike skin. It was too impossible, even the crimson blossoms that shone in the light of the moon.
These small, luminescent creatures are a distant relative of the willowisp, little bits of orangish light that are attracted by the flames of a fire. When enough of them have gathered around a fire, the fire appears to take on a fuzzy indistinctness.
On a world made entirely of molten rock, there is still life.
Mining in a certain area turns all exposed skin (maybe just parts that are actively disturbing the chemicals that cause the reaction) of the those doing the mining to a dark blue color. Will wear off taking as many years/days spent in the mine. ... meeting a party of blue-skinned humans armed with pick-axes etc. Strange disease? Demon offspring? Curse? If they meet only one ex-worker, they will very carefully listen to any stories he says, no matter if drunken or insane, or just makes up to get a beer.