It is the golden light of street lamps shining on falling rain; the piercing light of headlights glaring through the stormy night; the sparkling light of the sun beaming through the rainbow. It is all this and more: It is the light of magic, meaning it is the light of life, and it blazes around her the way flames rage on a torch. It draws them closer, enemies asnd allies alike, and repels them at once, simultaneously playing the lighthouse and the hellfire. This is the light, the magic, the life this one being is made of, and it is also her offense and defense, fury and compassion, love and sorrow unleashed upon the world that created her.
There are so many fragile things, after all. People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts. ~ Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things