Alex looks at her funny. "Class is a funny word for it, but you're not wrong. It's more focusing on what I'd be able to easily intuit. A blacksmith's son can more easily intuit truths about fire."

He sweeps his head, and his light, around. "I've heard murmurs of a base camp, of others spirited away from their homes by mischance earlier than we were... from the perspective of this plane. We should seek it out, and head up in the morning. I called it phoenix-fire for a reason - the city will be reborn come the dawn."