Jin shivered and forced himself forward, placing his feet carefully on the charred beam. He didn’t have time to waste. Ash mixed with slushy snow made every surface slippery, and he didn’t want anyone to hear him. The skeletal brick walls offered no shelter–the roof was completely gone, the few windows smashed by the fire brigade. Soot covered everything and daylight was fading fast, making it hard to search.

He had to find something, anything, that would burn, or Old Boffers wouldn’t let Jin stay by the fire for the night. If he didn’t get warm, he would die. He tucked his fingers, numb with cold, under his arms.

If anything had survived the fire, it would be near the walls. Jin moved rough iron brackets, twisted with heat, stirring up dry ash that covered his face, tasting dry and sour. A section of brick wall had fallen nearby, and he used a length of iron rod as a lever. He heard a faint ping as something fell. A coin?

Jin scrabbled in the rough ash, feeling the smooth surface before he saw it. Not a coin, something round. He pulled it out, almost dropping it when he saw the fiery gleam inside. The little crystal sphere looked like it held a flame, surrounded by a suspended swirl of tiny flecks of gold. Jin stared at it agape, marveling at its perfection. Wondering what it was, why it seemed to glow and become larger in his vision. Why the scent of burning in the air had changed to that of spices. Why the brick walls had disappeared from the edges of his vision, and why there was now warm sand under his rag-covered feet.