Izzy stared at him dumbly. The child--or whatever he was--was either one good actor with the best make-up artist and special effects crew known to Hollywood, or was telling the truth. Though something deep inside her told her it was the latter, she was still rooting for a hidden camera crew to jump out and the boy to yell, “Gotchya!” and start explaining how they had simulated the flames. But, alas, none did. The hall around them remained eerily quiet save for a few creaks and groans from the weakening bones of the building.
	Out of everything Cerasus said, one thing stuck out to her and rung in a loop through her mind: “[i]our[/i] kind.”
	“Our...” Izzy pulled herself slowly into a kneeling position. Suddenly, she noticed something. Rather, [i]did not[/i] notice it. Since she woke, she had not felt the frantic beat of her heart in her chest, no matter how heightened her emotions got. “You... [i]What did you do?[/i]” she hissed, enunciating each word slowly, her voice slightly higher than normal.