Before me loomed the portcullis behind which this realm's lord lurked. I raised a weary hand, yet found it locked, immobile as the stones into which it was set. The Cinder had grown cold in my breast, no more roused by my touch than the statues might be stirred by vehement epithets, even the foulest of which seemed unable to capture my frustration.

You shan't avoid the dungeon this time. I glared to my left, where I presumed the Fire Keeper would stand.

"Couldn't have guessed that one." I muttered, turning on my heel and noticing for the first time, the circular pit carved into the earth. "Down there seems promising."

Wait, Ashen One. You need not carry on alone.

"I doubt you can hold a blade." I sensed a charmed smile, and a shaking of her head.

To your left, Ashen One.

Sighing, I turned, cocking my head in confusion at that which I beheld: a disk of mottled crimson light lay sheltered in the corner, a blade of pale scarlet jutting from it and tapering as it reached for the heavens, yet rose no farther than the crest of my scalp.

"Wha-? I felt the Keeper smile again.

The Bell, Ashen One.

I shook my head. "I guess I am more weary than I thought." Rough metal rasped beneath my trembling fingers as I withdrew the Old Hunter's Bell, an ancient relic of times long past, that had weathered them poorly. Its sepulchral tone rang forth, low and melancholy, yet all the same it beckoned to whatever waited on the far side of the rippling mire.