The speculation gives me enough courage to tip the liquid into my mouth. I would do almost anything for a bit of warmth. The potion is sweeter than I was expecting. It tastes good as it slides down my throat. I wait for something to happen, but I feel just as I did before. Cold and all.

“What is that?” Niklas says, his voice filled with revulsion. I follow his gaze and suck in a sharp breath. A hole has opened in the back wall like a giant gaping mouth. Bones dangle from the top and jut up from the bottom.

“Are we supposed to …?” Tessa lifts one hand toward the opening, her sentence trailing off, as if she can’t force herself to finish.

“Go in there?” Talon says. “I think so.”

Bram scrubs a hand over his face. “I’ll go first.” He moves forward without waiting for a reply. Just before he reaches the cavity, a wall of fire erupts in front of him. He lets out a startled yelp and jumps back.

And then I hear a noise.

A high-pitched keening. A plea for help in a voice so faint, I could believe I’d imagined it, if not for my own horror reflected in the others’ expressions.

“Someone is trapped in there,” Bram says. “We have to help them.” But he doesn’t move. His eyes are tight, his body is rigid. A sudden flash of realization goes through me. Bram’s parents died in a fire. This is his worst nightmare.

“Someone else go first,” I say, taking Bram’s hand in mine and gently turning him away from the flames.

The crying grows more desperate.

Talon runs forward and plunges into the fire. But the moment he makes contact, the blaze transforms into water, rushing over his head, engulfing him. His eyes bulge. Instead of swimming to the surface, he flails in the water, his face a mask of panic.

Bram springs into action, diving into the water and yanking on Talon’s arm. But Talon is thrashing so violently that Bram can’t get purchase. The two struggle until finally Bram wraps an arm around Talon’s neck and pulls him to safety.

The moment Talon is free, the water morphs into fire again, and Bram backs away.

Talon sinks to the ground and begins to cry. Great gulping sobs that make him seem years younger than seventeen years. Tessa crouches beside him and takes his hand in hers. She doesn’t say a word; she just sits with him until he calms.

The voice in the fire begins to wail, and my heart pinches tight. How can we help someone we can’t find? I’m so cold, I can’t think clearly. My mind slows. Turns. Catches the thought before it spins away.

“The flames aren’t hot,” I say.

The others look at me with blank expressions.