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She had been the only woman working the Bessemer steel mill, pouring liquid fire into molds and showing the men how to lift machinery without wrenching their backs.

A part of me feared that the beast had followed me into the waking world and was lurking somewhere nearby, under the water or in the twisted branches, watching with eyes like liquid fire and sparks seething from its soot-blackened teeth.

At the Cyclopes’ feet, a red vein in the ground burst open, spraying the monsters with liquid fire from the Phlegethon.

When they needed a drink, the best they could do was sip some refreshing liquid fire.

The result, softly crunchy with onions and equal parts pleasure and pain, washes over the tongue like liquid fire.