The first thing Lyra noticed was the smell.

It was sharp and bitter, like heated metal and crushed stone, nothing like the soft warmth she had grown used to over the past few days. It filled her nose abruptly, yanking her out of sleep before she could even open her eyes. Her body reacted before her mind did. Her hand flew to her chest, fingers brushing against the necklace Kieran had placed there the night before.

It was hot.

Not warm. Not faintly glowing. Hot enough that she hissed sharply and ...