This was it—the moment Tavin had been dreading and waiting for. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he held the point of his blade to his thumb, watching carefully as Baelon disappeared behind the expanding cloud of miasma. He still wasn’t sure if his flames could even combat the stuff, it hadn’t been tested yet. But given the way it rotted anything it touched that wasn’t made of stone, Tavin couldn’t imagine what would happen if he didn’t try.

There was so much of it—he ...