'The years have made you weak.' The Maker's daughter moved slowly now, silently towards Bayaz' senseless body, her white hair flowing out behind her like the ripples on a frosty pool. 'Your Art cannot harm me.' She stood over him, her dry white lips spreading into an icy smile. 'For all you took from me. For my father.' She raised her foot above Bayaz' bald head. 'For myself—'
She burst into brilliant flames. Harsh light flickered to the furthest corners of the cavernous chamber, brightness stabbed into the very cracks between the stones. Ferro stumbled back, holding one hand over her eyes. Between her fingers she saw Tolomei reel madly across the floor, thrashing and dancing, white flames wreathing her body, her hair a coiling tongue of fire.
- Last Argument of Kings, Part II, Better Left Buried