Sam moved forward cautiously. We walked through a series of smashed rooms and rubbish, heading toward what once must have been a wall dividing section of the warehouse from the other. There were two doorways—one into the shell of an office, the other into a hallway. Not even the flashlight’s bright beam could penetrate the darkness that held that place captive.

Magic, my inner voice whispered, even if I couldn’t actually sense it.

Two metal doors that had once divided the two areas lay on the concrete; one of them so badly twisted, it looked more like a crinkled bit of foil. The other was blackened and covered in rubbish.

Sam skirted them both and stepped into the gloom. I half expected him to disappear, but nothing happened. There was little in the way of sound, and the only thing moving besides the three of us was a stirring breeze. Which was weird when we were so close to the fire zone. Considering the height and strength of those flames, we should have at least heard their roar.

Though there was no immediate threat, Sam unclipped his weapon in readiness. Heat instantly touched the air, a brief but bright flash of orange that lit the darkness.

That flash came from Jackson rather than the nearby wall of fire.

He took a deep, steadying breath and gave me a tight smile. I’m okay.

I know. And a flash of light was infinitely better than a burst of flames. He might not yet have full control, but he was improving a whole lot faster than most young phoenixes ever did.

We walked on, our footsteps stirring up a cloud of dust and soot that choked every breath. The flashlight still wasn’t having much luck against the almost impregnable darkness, but Sam nevertheless seemed to know where he was going.

“We should be about level with the beginnings of that debris wall,” he said. “Feel anything different, Em?”

“No. Nothing different to what I would have outside, anyway.” Which was decidedly weird, given they had to be aware that this warehouse was a direct route into the fire zone. Why protect a rubble-filled road with magic and fire, and not the warehouse? Or was it simply a matter of our not having reached whatever defenses had been set up here yet?

“Let me know if it changes or gets worse as we step under the fire wall,” Sam said.

“That’s presuming what we’re seeing is actually a fire,” Jackson said. “It’s always possible it’s nothing more than an illusion.”

Sam glanced back at us, blue eyes bright in the shadows. “What makes you think that?”

“The fact that I’m a fire fae and feeling no fire.” He glanced at me. “What about you?”

“There is a fire ahead, but it’s nowhere near as strong as it should be.”

He grunted. “Meaning it’s being enhanced to look worse than it is.”