much, too quickly-” Her head disappeared within a cyclone of fire. Everything behind her, including her cottage, caught alight.

         She crumpled in a heap; her face obscured by a roiling plume of smoke. Sonja panted, her arm still outstretched. Rain sizzled against her splayed fingers. The downpour intensified, wind and water whipping across the slopes of the hill.

         The Pariarch remained still, daring to hope that her blast caught the heretic unawares. The girl did not move as curls of smoke and steam continued to boil from her head. A wet lock of red hair fell over Sonja’s eyes. She quickly brushed it away, her gasps turning to sputters as the torrent continued.

        ...

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