...The heat inside her was a living thing, a second pulse that never slowed, never cooled, never ceased its demand for motion and violence and laughter to keep the madness at bay. She could feel it behind her ribs, an unholy furnace where her heart had been, and sometimes that made her want to claw her way out of her own skin. But then she'd laugh, loud and bright, and the flames would quiet just enough for her to remember that she was still her, still Karlach, still unbreakable. The devils thought they owned her. They were wrong. She had paid the price in blood and fire and had come out burning on her own terms, bright enough to light up the dark for anyone walking beside her...