Archer got excited as the violet fire didn't crawl this time; it roared. It poured out of him in a column that lit the jungle, turning night into noon, turning every drop of swamp water on the snake's hide into screaming steam. The air ignited. Trees flash-burned to glass. He rose inside the inferno, shirt incinerating, skin glowing.
His eyes were twin dying stars. He spoke one word. It wasn't a spell. It was a name the universe had tried very hard to forget. The snake heard it and tried to flee. But it was too late. The fire folded in on itself, condensed into a single violet spear the width of a man's arm, and punched straight through the serpent's skull.
