"Easy," Ze murmurs as I sway on my feet. His arm falls to the small of my back as he keeps me upright. "Open your mouth," he says, grabbing my face with two fingers and prying my mouth open.

I'm so out of breath at this point that I don't even protest, my lips parting to allow for his cool breath to give me life. I suck in a deep breath. Then another. Soon, my body begins to regulate its temperature better and I'm no longer dying of heat. The air quality changes, too, and I'm able to breathe normally.

"Good?" he inquires.

I nod, bringing the back of my hand to wipe the sweat clinging to my skin.

"We are heading to the worst part of Katras. Very few beings can withstand this type of atmosphere," he explains. "Let me know when you start feeling hot again and I will lend you my breath."

"Now I see why people always associate hell with heat. It's awful." I make a disgusted face.

"Technically, it is not an association," Ze starts, putting a finger up. Here it comes—another lesson. "It sometimes happens that a soul retains fragmentary memories of the afterlife. It is rare, and those memories are never something cohesive. Feelings, impressions, that type of thing. Heat is one of them. Mortals across all realms have the same basic idea of the afterlife because of those impressions."

"Oh." I blink. "Okay. That's interesting." I nod. "I've never given much thought to my past lives. I wonder what I was." I smile at the thought. "Is there a way to remember?"

He nods.

"Jì. It is a potion that is the opposite of Letharion. But living beings cannot consume it or they will suffer great consequences. It is why it is so strictly regulated by the House of Psyche. Only authorized beings are allowed to handle it."

"What consequences?" I quip, curious.

"Do not concern yourself with that, human. You will not touch Jì."

"Not even if I'm very, very curious?" I bat my lashes at him playfully.

"No," he states unequivocally. "It will harm you, and I will not let anything harm you. Understood?" He takes a moment to stare me down, his intense gaze conveying his disapproval.

"Fine, fine," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

He grunts, though he watches me carefully from the corner of his eyes.

We descend lower into the ground. We stick to a narrow path, and on every side, there are galleries inside the rock that are brimming with souls that are being punished.

Their forms are humanoid, but only enough so pain can be inflicted upon them. Flesh is being cut, time and time again as it slowly mends. Organs are removed and stomped on. One individual is cut in half, its intestines pooling on the floor.

"You should look away if this messes with your human sensibilities," Ze mentions.