I toss Jacey her cloak and pull my own around my shoulders. My teeth are already chattering. The ceiling soars above us, lit by tiny pinpricks of light that somehow manage to make the room look as if we’re standing in full daylight on a cold, cloudless day. I can’t tell what the walls are made from, because they’re covered in a thick layer of ice.

We move a few steps farther into the room and find a long wooden table with a handful of bones, a mortar and pestle, and tubes full of colorful liquids.

And six kerata.

I run a finger over one of the drinking horns, and a knot of anxiety wedges beneath my sternum. These ingredients look completely different from the ones Jacey used to mix the truth serum. So what are they expecting us to drink?

Everyone else must be thinking along the same lines, because we all start talking at once—and every question is directed at Jacey: What’s going on? What kind of potion do you make with these bones? Is this going to hurt?

“Stop!” Jacey throws her hands in the air. “I don’t know. Let me think for a moment.”

She examines the ingredients, her lips pressed together. And then she shakes her head. “I’ve never seen this combination before. I have no idea what it’s for.”

Talon’s eyes go wide. “We can’t just drink some mystery potion. What if that’s part of the challenge? To see if we’re stupid enough to poison ourselves?”

“It wouldn’t be here if it weren’t necessary,” Jacey says. “At least I don’t think so.”

“Maybe we should hold off on the potion and explore the rest of the room first,” Bram says. “It might give us some hint about what Jacey will be mixing.”

It’s a good idea, and we quickly separate and scour our surroundings. But there’s very little to see. The room is stark white, well lit, and utterly empty but for the table. Small prickling sensations dance across my fingertips. Bram’s lips are tinged blue. We can’t stay in this room long without freezing to death.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” I say. “We’re not going to be able to move forward until we drink.”

Tessa tugs at her curls, spinning a lock of hair around her index finger. “You’re probably right, but I hate the idea.”

Jacey grinds the bones and adds the ingredients one by one. The mixture becomes a paste and then thins to a liquid as she works. Finally she finishes and fills each keras one by one.

“Maybe it’s a warming potion,” Jacey says as she passes them around.