spear of destiny

All around us, the battle hung in the balance, poised. It could have gone one way or the other, and a feather’s touch could have made the difference in which way it fell.
I lifted a hand. I had retooled the top of my staff weeks before. It had been fit very closely, so close that you couldn’t see the seam when it was closed. The svartalves had used lasers when I commissioned it. I unscrewed a four-inch section from the top of the staff, where a simple bolt and socket had been set.
Then I drew the dagger from my belt.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
The handle of the dagger had been set with the same size socket as the cap of the staff. I set it on the end and spun it, and the well-oiled bolt whirled into place and locked with a simple hinged hook over one side of the dagger’s hilt, to keep it from unscrewing.
Then I gathered power. The runes of the weapon’s haft flared into green-gold light that pulsed in intensity along with the thunder of my heart.
The knife at the head didn’t burst into flame or anything. It just became . . . colder. The edges harder, sharper, more real—so real that anything that you looked at in the background beyond the spear seemed . . . blurry. Symbolic. Transitory.
That weapon carried reality woven into it, dark and hard and unalterable. I felt my will and the weapon’s head vibrating in harmony, along with my heartbeat.
I slammed the butt end of the Spear of Destiny on the ground, and green and gold fire leapt up in a ring around me.
The impact vibrated against my hand and I felt it go out into the ground through the soles of my sneakers. I could sense the substance of the Spear stirring, forming, almost awakening. It drew some of its energy from me. My heart rate started to climb.
“Hey! Regina George!” I called, and my voice echoed over the field as if on loudspeakers.
Thrum-thrum, went the power of the Spear. Thrum-thrum. Thrum-thrum.
Ethniu’s head whipped toward me, her eye focused on the Spear, wide and alarmed—while Butters and Sanya rushed to flank her.
“Yeah,” I said, and started wearily forward. “Enough foreplay. Time for the main event.”

Battle Ground Chapter 32, Page 316-317