The spiral staircase beckoned downward, each step glimmering with an ethereal blue-green light that pulsed in perfect rhythm. Apollo tested the first step with cautious pressure, half-expecting it to dissolve beneath his boot. It held firm despite appearing translucent, a paradox of solidity and light.
"Are we meant to just... walk down?" Nik asked, his voice unnaturally loud in the chamber's sudden stillness.
Apollo nodded, unable to tear his gaze from the descending spiral. The gold in his veins had warmed again, a gentle thrum that matched the staircase's pulsing illumination. "It's the way forward," he said simply.
Thorin spat onto the top step, watching as the liquid neither pooled nor dripped but simply disappeared into the luminescent surface. "More magic," he muttered, though the usual venom had drained from his complaint, replaced by weary resignation. "Always more magic."
