Raw, unfiltered threads of power probed across the edge of The Darn, seeking multiple marks at once, and surprised shouts went up all along the bank as warriors locked in battle watched their opponents burst into flames like torches. It was Lorreth—Lorreth, and the angel’s breath Avisiéth had granted him—and the sight of it set my soul on fucking fire.
I can't imagine the pride she must have felt to have created such a weapon
