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I grabbed my bag. “You better be careful.”

“I will,Mom. Now go!”

Hank was waiting for us on the upper balcony, looking even a little more somber than his usual. He was standing beside a door, but instead of a regular, generic-looking door that could’ve been in any office, this one was rusted steel.

“Are they all ready to take us to the Wastelands?” Kaden asked.

Wastelands? Did I dare ask? No. This was definitely one where the name said enough.

“Yes. Ten stacked, back to back, as requested.” Hank lifted his chin, as if insulted it would be anything but what was ordered. He was a little righteous, considering what had just gone down with the last door, but this wasn't the time to debate.

“What’s a burner door?” I didn’t like the looks of this thing, nor Dice's reaction to it.

Hank rapped his knuckle on the door. “Most doors leave an energy signal that they were there. These leave a tiny trace, but stacked, they’re impossible to follow. But there’s a drawback to using them.”

“What’s the cost?” I asked, looking at Hank.

“Uhm…” Hank looked at Kaden.

“They drain some energy as you use them,” Kaden said. “It’s nothing permanent, but by the time we make it through half of them, you’re going to feel like you’ve had the flu for a month.”

Kaden stepped forward. Instead of opening the door and walking through, he held out his hand, waiting for me. The implications were obvious. Whatever this was going to feel like, it wouldn’t be pleasant.

I took his hand. As I crossed the threshold, my body felt like it was being scorched with blowtorches. When he’d called these burner doors, I’d assumed it was named after burner phones. There was obviously another reason they’d gotten the name.

I got through it and was standing in a desert, the heat sizzling, with another door in front of us. Again, it wasn’t a standard door that could’ve been plucked from a home improvement store. This one looked like charred wood, with a large iron handle that could lead to a dungeon.

“Is this one going to be like the last?” I almost asked him if it would be worse, before I remembered I didn’t want to know. This was unavoidable. It was better to find out as I went.

“Worse,” he said without hesitation, then seemed to be waiting to see if I’d balk.

I didn’t. There was nothing to do about it. I shook off the last of the burning feeling and took a step forward.

“Let’s do it,” I said.

The second one left me gasping, bent over with one hand planted in a snow field. I glanced at Kaden. His tan skin was looking a little paler than usual, and the cords of his neck looked like they were going to snap.

“It probably won’t get too much worse.”

I nodded, torn between taking a break in between doors and running through the last eight as fast as I could. Stopping didn’t appear to be helping. I straightened, swallowing repeatedly so I didn’t throw up.

“Let’s just get this done as fast as possible,” I said.

“You sure?” He raised a brow, as if doubting my plan.

No. “Yes.”

He nodded, looking impressed. “Then let’s do it.”

The next eight doors were a blur of pain and the worst five minutes of my entire life. I couldn’t have done one more.

By the time we walked through the last door, I collapsed on the ground, dry-heaving. Luckily, this world seemed to have a mild climate and a thick bed of grass—not that it would have mattered. I would’ve dropped onto a bed of lava after that last door.

Kaden was looking down at me, although, to his credit, he didn’t have the typical look of arrogance he carried so naturally. He was looking at me with a bit of sympathy, if I had to name the emotion.

“How come you’re still standing?” I asked. His apparent stamina when I felt like death warmed over was making me want to take him out at the knees.

“Trust me when I say I feel horrible.”