Fire filled my palms, blazing with a ferocity a drakon would envy. A careful flick of my wrists sent the flames careening towards a slate circle fixed to a distant tree. It hit directly. Well, it was slightly off to the right, if you were being picky – which I definitely wasn’t. It might not have been Roxy’s standard, but I believed that toasting a target was all the precision I needed: burnt was burnt; dead was dead. I rolled a small flare between my fingers before popping it in my mouth, inhaling deeply and exhaling a cloud of scalding smoke.