Kyra folds her arms. "So we could open it?"
"In theory, yes." Verrin glances back at her, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "But one mistake and the formation could seal permanently—or worse, reset the entire chamber. I'd rather not risk guessing which symbols to touch."
"Alright," Bragg says, rubbing his jaw. "So we've got 'fiery death' on the left, and 'puzzle that might kill us' in the middle. Great start."
Kyra nods toward the last door. "Then check the right one."
Verrin spends several long minutes tracing the patterns along door, eyes half-closed in concentration. Threads of gold mana flicker from his fingertips, crawling over the metallic surface like veins of light—then sputter and vanish, snuffed out as if swallowed.
Kyra leans on her blade, voice tight with impatience. "Any progress?"
He exhales slowly through his nose. "Not yet."
