I delved and there was fire.

Pure and impossibly hot, cleansing and devouring, red and gold and white at its heart. The flame rose within me—a maelstrom of light.

The deeper I delved the hotter it grew until my blood burned like the flaming waters of the Underworld. My hair rose around me in a sudden hot gust. It danced, golden red, like the corona around the sun.

Yet deeper still I delved.

I spiraled down, down, down into the fathomless sea of glowing brilliance that lived inside me.

It rose as I delved, that power. It filled my veins and danced beneath my skin until I felt my very flesh would burn away with the force of it—leaving only this all-encompassing luminance in its wake.

A phoenix, born again from the ashes.

Distantly, voices rose. Someone called my name. Great, booming bangs rang in my ears.

My heart, I thought.

Faster, its rhythm beat, harder until I feared it might burst.

And still, the power came. More and more and more and more and more.

It filled me.

It burned me.

It ripped me apart and crafted me anew.

I shook. Warmth poured down my cheeks—blood or tears, I didn’t know. The power—too much for my body to contain, just as Sibyl had always warned—filtered through my skin, bathing my whole being in red-gold light. Flames licked at my fingertips.

One more. One more great pull of power.

Then I erupted and the Casting took me.