Will frowns. "I think I burned myself on something?" But the memory was hazy. Had it been at the hearth at home? In the shop at school? He wasn't sure.

But as she touches his skin, he stiffens as a rush of power runs through him and he is lost within it for a long moment that seems to never end. Images run through his mind. Snow, deep and cold. A pair of cat-like golden eyes, fringed with feathers. A golden cup. And fire, fire blooming into a flower.

And above everything else, the words that come into his mind.

"The Youngest of the Old," he repeats aloud.