" A week later, Stanton walked into the fire. Sparks cascaded around him and formed a crown in his hair without burning. The cold blaze lashed around him, etching a frosty crystalline pattern of his arms and face.
He stared at the other members of the Inner Circle through the veil of flames as the fire burned his mortality away and he became an Immortal again. Their eyes looked more pleased than angry, more content than covetous. Stanton had destroyed the traitor Lambert, and the Atrox was pleased.
The fire became a maelstrom, shrieking up to the heavens in triumph. The crown of burning embers stayed on his head. Bits of fire showered the night and formed a pathway toward the blaze.
Three of the highest-ranking members stepped slowly forward along the fiery path, carrying a cloak spun of black, silky threads. Together they spread the fabric and set the cloak over Stanton's shoulders.
He stared at the emblem, surprised by what he had been given. He smiled, satisfied, and knew that Jimena's final premonition had come true. Only one was allowed to wear this crest. It was the highest honor given by the Atrox; two hands holding the eternal flame of evil. Stanton understood its significance. He had once been destined to be a prince. Now he was Prince of the Night. "

― Lynne Ewing , The Sacrifice (Daughters of the Moon, #5)