Asthralain was not vengeful but she knew no acts of terror or violence could go unremarked or unpunished. The gyre of retribution swells and rotates fast in its anger. At best it buys an uneasy peace, but at worst fosters a revolution that before it ultimately falters has created anarchy. Despicable act begets despicable act, though ultimately it cannot flourish and the call to arms rattles in the throats of the warmongers and grows silent. For when the initial anger is set aside it can never be more than the exhale of revenge. Unlike the greater song of humanity which then comes to bear to bring a decade of atonement bred from the voices of those we have lost. This she would not permit to happen. She could not lead her world into a maelstrom of conflict if she herself did not believe the cause was just.

The campfire had burnt low to glowing embers by the time she noticed its faint flicker. Hurriedly she threw on more wood but before it could crackle into life the first attack came. Without compulsion her staff blazed into life.