through the door direly marked that opened to the stairs , serpentine and narrow , and below the friendly yellow glow of the jets , the rush of cooler air against my face , and now my eyes are open and i am sprinting along the tortuous path to her chamber and i will not suffer you , i will not let it stand , and there is isaacson running toward me as above us the edifice groans and cries , saying it burns , it burns !