This time, instead of using the tongs and hammer, Dejah uses her gloved hand to hold the metal in the red hot throat of the forge. She doesn't even have to turn her face away. A pale shimmer of blue light flares in front of her, protecting her from the worst of the heat.

She holds the plate until it glows and then carefully, with her hands, begins to form the metal. It's a gentle movement and gives her a lot more control, it seems.

"My whole life, before I met John, I spent every day fighting an enemy I didn't even know existed. After," Dejah gives a dry little laugh. "It took us another twenty five years to dig them out by the root. And I'm still half-convinced everyone I meet might be a Thern agent in disguise. Did I mention the part where they can make themselves look and sound like anyone?"