“Come forward, volunteers!” Sora stands next to the metal cage and ushers people closer. “If you are brave enough to attempt the taming of the inmyeonjo, step up now.”

Two kids who don’t look a day over eight walk forward, holding hands. “We volunteer!” they call out.

Sora smiles but waves them back. “You’re very brave, Henry and Grace, but perhaps not today.”

Three older scholars from the crowd bravely raise their hands as Austin pushes me toward Sora.

“Good luck,” Taeyo whispers.

I steal another glance at the metal cage. The inmyeonjo is glaring straight at me while ramming the bars, and I’m sure she’s out for my blood. I gulp.

“I’ll go first,” one of the volunteers announces. The man—who has a well-groomed beard and a man bun—takes a lighter out of his pocket. He ignites the flame, and then rubs his wrists.

“Good luck, Jo,” Sora says.

Austin magicks the metal cage so it lifts into the air by itself, leaving the inmyeonjo free on the ground. The empty trap hovers above the volunteer and the inmyeonjo like a steel spiderweb.

My heart speeds up as I watch Jo. His dominant element must be fire, same as me. Seeing him with the lighter, I realize the Horangi’s magic only works if the element is nearby. That’s why the training hall we were first detained in was full of water—because Taeyo needed it for his watery shackles. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lighter handy.

The man concentrates on the inmyeonjo, who has started to flap her wings like she’s going to charge any second. He swirls one hand over the open flame as if making a soft-serve cone, and then blows on his open palm. Fire shoots from the lighter in an impressive spiraling wave and torpedoes toward the bird-woman.

The inmyeonjo sees it coming and acts immediately. Her eyes burn with hatred and, by fanning her wings, she redirects the flame straight back at Jo, screeching angrily as she does so. The volunteer’s hair catches on fire and the inmyeonjo cackles.

“You will never tame me!” she shrieks.

I cover my mouth. Wait, she talks?! Her voice is so screechy and warbly, it makes me wince. The sound reminds me of those woodcutting saws that people wobble and play like a stringed instrument, except it’s three octaves higher.

Jo jumps into the lake to kill the flames and comes out a few moments later looking decidedly less well-groomed than before. His man bun is scorched.

Sora looks disappointed. “Next!”

The two remaining volunteers step forward together. One of the women has a pixie cut, while the other has a side shave and walks with a cane, but apart from that, they’re identical. They’re both wearing T-shirts with wingless fairies on them and the text TWINS BEFORE WINGS underneath.