It's breathtaking, that light. Breathtaking and beautiful and Neal thinks help me, to no one he can name.

Help me help him. Help me remember why I'm here.

"Who are you talking to?" It's the first wizard this time, fixing on Neal with sudden intense focus.

"Help me," he says, quietly, but his otherworldly echo is anything but quiet. Celestial light swirls around his free hand and weaves itself into a long, thin, glittering sword that looks made from ice frozen impossibly around flames, a dark orange flicker in the depths of the blade.