Black flame climbed the pantry walls in fat, hungry ribbons, licking the shelves until jars burst like firecrackers. A small girl stood in the middle of the blaze, horns bleeding smoke, eyes glowing like banked coals.
The knight who touched her lay sprawled across the flagstones, his glove seared black, his helm rolling.
Alya stood frozen in the broken doorway, the Dawnbreak forgotten at her side, her face ashen.
"That is the thing from the Prince's lab," she whispered.
Without looking away from the fire, Hajin said, "Her name is Nyra, you have ten seconds to get your knights out of my kitchen."
Inside his skull, Aria said, "The Rampart would reduce the burns by ninety percent, I strongly recommend raising it."
'If I put up a wall she'll think I'm one more door, Clever.'
"Then I will log your decision as stupid but sound," she answered.
