The first thing Ray felt when he opened the door was cold.
Intense cold. It was almost tangible, like the very air had turned to physical ice. He gritted his teeth and pushed on through, standing in the foyer. It was spacious but the walls loomed over them, as though they were reaching down to grab at them.
The shutters on the windows were all open, but very little light made it through, only the sunshine from the open front door and even that had a hard time entering.
Ray was shivering, trembling, and he wanted nothing more than to run away from this place. Without thinking about it he felt behind him for Kyra's hand and grasped it whether or not she wanted to pull away or not.
He raised his shaking right hand and with a brief effort of will and concentration he called up his flame. It burned in the palm of his hand and cast flickering, orange light onto the walls.
It made him feel a little bit better.
"I can feel it," he whispered, "The cold, the darkness. I won't lie, I'm afraid...scared half to death." 
As if to punctuate this declaration he squeezed Kyra's hand tighter, certain that he must be hurting her, but he could not let go.