Glittering shards scatter over the ground at her feet, gleaming with the harsh cold beauty of ice in the late afternoon sunlight.

She has no appreciation for the sight, however. Instead, Blodwen's gaze is fixed on the smoke-- long stained pink with Raven's blood-- that now boils upward in a wild, uncontrolled rush from the shattered ruin of the glass globe that had been its prison.

She staggers backward a step, then turns to flee-- and the smoke coils itself around her.