“I wouldn’t go near that, miss. Old magic shouldn’t be meddled with,” Logue warned Faerrah as they finally found a room to rest. The ancient brazier crackled and burned in the center, but there were no monsters. It was the best place for them to stop for a night.

“It’s cold…” Faerrah’s ears perked at the feeling, and Logue gave her a small smile as she stepped towards it, but keeping a respectful distance. The coolness of the lit brazier was inviting against the looming heat. The fire danced as if it had been burning for hours, but the coals looked almost new. It should have been impossible. Yet here it was.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? The dungeon has many secrets. You need to know where to look.”

She’d never seen magic before, not like this. The surface had some coursers who were capable, or even the wizard, but it didn’t feel like this. This was seductive, like a lover’s curling finger enticing her into a room. This was dangerous. The feeling of something large looming under the surface in ways that she couldn’t quite shake off.

Faerrah forced herself to take a step back from it, allowing the distance to grow as the song in her chest howled.

“Perhaps it’s best we keep moving?” She suggested quietly.

Relieve surged when Logue got back to his feet with a nod.

“Aye, miss. Some of us are affected more than others. Best not to take a chance.”

If he noticed the way the fire still burned in her eyes as she looked away from it, Logue didn’t say anything.