Soul-Forge was the strangest of my Broken-Celestial skills, and the one I understood least, which is saying a great deal, because I did not really understand any of them.
The others did things to the world. They threw lightning, wove threads, passed sentences. Soul-Forge did things to me. It was the skill that had taken the unravelled pieces of Narghul Sorcerers and burned them into my heart, that had fed the raw stuff of dead monsters into the channels Cor Telluris was still building, that had, more than any single thing, made me into whatever I now was.
It did not break the world. It ate the world, a careful mouthful at a time, and rebuilt me from the pieces, and I was sure that I was not using this ability to its utmost, or seeing a fraction of what it was truly capable of.
