The trio and Takara, exhausted but victorious, began to regroup, the tension of the fight slowly bleeding away into weary relief as the team headed for the stairs to the next floor. As they walked toward it, they passed a door that had been revealed alongside the stairs. It was a small, unassuming wooden door with a simple iron handle. Roy pushed it open. The room inside was small, dark, and filled from floor to ceiling with nothing but masks, Wooden, porcelain, and leather masks, all staring out from the darkness.
Roy immediately slammed the door shut.
"Yeah, nope," he said, already walking away. "Not messing with any creepy masks. I've seen way too many movies warning me about that."
Roy and Eryndra led the way down the stairs and into a narrow, web-choked corridor, the air thick and musty.
"Thi-this was a BAD idea!" Roy yelled as he daintily maneuvered his way around the webs.
Two steps later, his face plunged into a thick curtain of ancient, sticky webbing. A choked, guttural sound ripped from his throat as he stumbled backward, clawing at the thick strands clinging to his face and hair.
"No, no, no, get them OFF!" he wailed, his voice an octave too high as he stumbled back. He flailed his arms wildly, his frantic movements turning the rest of the group's attention squarely on him.
"Here, Captain, I'll get them off!" Orin said earnestly, stepping forward to help his flailing leader. In his haste to get to Roy, his foot came down squarely on a newly glowing rune etched into the stone floor.
A brilliant flash of light erupted, and a shimmering, hexagonal barrier instantly materialized, trapping Orin inside. Before anyone could even process what had happened, the floor beneath his feet vanished into nothingness.
"Whoa!" was all Orin had time to yell before he plummeted into the darkness, his own voice a desperate cry. "Roy!"
His phobia forgotten, Roy scrambled forward just in time to see the empty space where his friend had been. "Orin!" he screamed. He returned to clawing uselessly at the webs still clinging to him as he turned to Eryndra. "Eryndra, get him! Save him now!"
Orden's small hand rose, fingers trembling slightly. For a fleeting instant, his always-cheerful expression darkened into a conflicted mask of frustration. He wanted to intervene, to bend the rules he himself must follow, rules that, in this painful moment, felt deeply unjust. Yet, his fist slowly lowered. He closed his eyes and exhaled, silently reaffirming his vow, no matter how much it hurt to hold back.
"Stand back!" Ereyndra roared. She charged the barrier, her fist connecting with a boom that shook the corridor, but the hexagonal field wobbled before stabilizing. The vents on her armor snapped open with a sharp hiss. She rocketed forward again, a flurry of piston-like blows cracking the barrier with a rapid series of concussive strikes, but the magical shield healed every fissure the moment it appeared.
"It's regenerating too fast!" Takara yelled.
"Stand back, Lady Eryndra," a calm voice cut through the panic. JFK stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He raised a hand as if presenting a formal decree, a single, complex rune glowing on his palm. "Forgotten Scripts: Executive Privilege."
He projected the rune onto the barrier. The shimmering field of light dissolved like sugar in water, its powerful magic nullified in an instant.
But as the barrier fell, the ground shook violently. A spray of molten rock and superheated steam erupted from the pit, splattering against the ceiling. The corridor was suddenly silent; they could no longer hear Orin.
Immediately, Eryndra's face went pale. "ORIN!" she screamed, a raw, desperate sound, and without a second of hesitation, she dove headfirst into the dark, fiery hole.
Lynder cried out, firing off a quick spell that swirled around her for a moment before she outpaced it, vanishing into the abyss. JFK calmly stepped to the edge of the pit. "What was that spell, Guildmaster?"
"A heat ward," Lynder explained, his voice strained with concern as he stared down into the fiery darkness after her. "But, I doubt it would have done any good…"
"If Orin is alive down there," JFK stated with absolute certainty, "Lady Eryndra will rescue him."
Eryndra plunged deeper into darkness. The pit dropped straight and sheer, an endless shaft leading down toward a molten, bubbling glow far below. Air whipped past as she accelerated, heat rapidly intensifying, washing over her in heavy waves as sparks rose around her. She angled her body, her armored feet striking the rough-hewn wall of the pit, using the impact to accelerate her descent, gouging deep furrows in the rock. Sparks flew as her fingers tore through stone, guiding her plummet. The air grew thick and scorching, and droplets of lava burst like fireworks as she plowed through them.
Far below, a vast pool of churning magma filled the bottom of the shaft. She caught herself on the wall just above its surface, her fingers digging deep into the stone, ripping a trench as she bled off her momentum. She landed in a crouch on a narrow ledge, the intense heat washing over her.
"ORIN!" she screamed again, her voice echoing in the massive chamber. And again. Nothing.
Frustration and fear warred within her. She slammed a fist into the pit wall, shattering the rock. As the sound of the impact faded, she heard it. A faint, rhythmic click... click... click... coming from deep within the molten pool. It was a steady, mechanical sound, once every second. Hope surged through her.
Plunging into the magma was a descent into pure heat. The thick, molten rock parted around her armor as she cut through it. Her defenses held firm against the impossible temperature, the metal glowing a dull cherry-red, but a frantic clock was ticking in her head; every second spent searching for Orin was a second he might not have.
Her hands searched frantically through the viscous magma until they brushed against a hard, unyielding surface. It was body-shaped, a full suit of interlocking plates. Following an arm of the form down, her fingers closed around its hand.
She felt it grip back.
With a roar, she kicked off the floor of the lava pool, exploding upward. Arcs of plasma looped around her vents as she rocketed out of the pit, a human missile ascending back toward her friends. Bursting from the hole, her eyes immediately found Roy. The team was still with him, FDR methodically cleaning the last of the webbing from him. A wave of pure, singular relief washed over her, a single thought eclipsing everything else: He's okay. In that all-consuming focus, the armored figure she was hauling became an irrelevant weight. Her grip loosened, and she let go.
The figure crashed to the floor with the force of a meteor, embedding itself several feet deep in the solid stone with a deafening boom. The armor shimmered with ethereal darkness, translucent yet dense, enveloping Orin completely. It was sleek, form-fitting, yet composed of intricate, layered segments of pure black, each piece inscribed with flowing markings in a strange, unknown script that seemed to ripple gently, defying the eyes that tried to read them.
Eryndra took a step toward Roy, but FDR instantly moved to intercept her. She stopped, confused. FDR pulled a simple cloth rag from his suit pocket and casually tossed it at her. The second it touched her armor, it burst into flames.
"You just took a bath in a mini-volcano," the Presidroid said calmly. "Cool down a touch before giving out hugs."
Finally free of the webbing, Roy joined the others as they encircled the armored crater. From within the full, shimmering suit of ethereal armor, they could hear Orin's muffled voice, happily singing to himself.
Eryndra reached down and tapped the helmet a couple of times. The ethereal armor dissolved into motes of light, revealing Orin sitting in the crater, completely unharmed and looking utterly nonchalant.
"Oh, I'm alive! Cool!" Orin yelled.
An audible breath escaped Takara, the stiffness in her posture finally melting away. Andri's hands unclenched slowly, knuckles returning to their natural color as she sighed shakily. Rava sank silently onto a fallen stone, running a hand through his hair, eyes closed, grateful but clearly drained.
"Thanks, Eryndra!" he said cheerfully, hopping to his feet. "Okay, guys, ready to push on!?"
Roy simply stared at him, too accustomed to the antics to even register surprise. "What was that armor, Orin?"
"Oh, that's my dad's armor!" Orin explained proudly. "The 'Ethereal Armor of the Silent Giant!' It's way too heavy to move in, though. I'm actually super confused how you lifted me so easily, Eryndra."
"Uh, she is practically glowing red from a lava dip and you're worried about her lifting a heavy object?" Roy asked.
"Yes!" Orin responded happily.
"I... look, Orin, Eryndra is a freak, okay?" Roy said, shaking his head. "Don't ask questions."
"Freak is good, right?" Eryndra asked, turning to Takara.
"In this context, yes," Takara responded with a small smile. "How did you even find him?"
"I heard a tiny body clicking down in the lava," Eryndra explained.
Orin cleared his throat loudly. "Excuse me, you mean a tall body. But you are forgiven, I guess. That means we're equal now."
Eryndra held her still-glowing arm close to him. He yelped and jumped back. "Hot!"