Rebirth by Flame

Malika was suddenly overwhelmed by the cleansing intent and purity of Flame. It flowed through and over her like an all-consuming heat -- and as it did, it drew much of the pain and fury from her slight frame. She shuddered and screamed, both in relief and in rage. Her pain was her own, and she did not want to give it up. But at the same time, she could not deny the freedom from her hurt that she felt.

"Who be you?" she repeated again, this time in a whisper. She dropped her sword to the ground, the blue fire chuffing out. "Who be you?" And Malika fell to sobbing, the weight of her loss crashing over her once more. Instead of rage now she felt only pain, only grief, and she wept as she placed her head against this stranger's chest. She no longer cared who he was, only that he was here, that he had taken away some of the weight of this terrible burden she bore.

My lady, she heard Morduth say into her mind, and the sword's tone was one of concern and compassion.

Malika wept, her fire and fury quenched.