The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain. Not a pillar of fire. But Aelin. Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself. The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements. The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy. The silence turned reverent. A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.
