Sharinn muses, "So you've come a great distance to get down here, but all way further are blocked by water? Sounds like we either need a magical way to breathe, or some way to drain the water!"

Feeling a new sensation Paqen looks back at the shrine. For a couple seconds and clears his throat a bit. “Hmm…feels weird. Could she have…” He walks to the edge of the deeper water m, kneels down and braces himself…what would have seemed like a few seconds to the rest of them felt like forever to him. “Same as when you were a crab. Same as the crab…you are a crab…” 

Suddenly he plunges his head in and fighting all instinct and sense in his body he try’s to take in the water like air the first attempt he gags a bit and cough but after a couple tries it feels a bit more natural.

He pulls his head back out and looks to the group. “Well that is an interesting development. The lady has granted me her blessing so the water is no longer a problem. Still get wet. But I am not sure if you would have anything to offer her…” the last sentence trailing off like an unfinished though.

Ardana is startled by the appearance of the newcomers.    She gives thanks to Helm for the aid, and introduces herself.   We do need to help Mival return to his mother, but find the source of the mystery of this watery place is now also just as important. 

She sheds her armor and weaponry and makes the quick swim over to the shrine with the others.   She too prays, offering up a prayer to Helm but also to the lady of the waters, asking of Helm that he may commune with Lady Eldath so that the Lady can also grant favor to Ardana in this quest.

Seeing that, after Paqen, Elias and Ardana also begin to pray to Eldath in the shrine, Mival joins in and imitates them. In fact, despite the fact that this time nothing but prayers are offered, the three, after about a minute of sincere prayers, feel the initial sensation of peace and well-being grow to a definitive sense of true blessing...

Even in their case, the water now seems much more familiar and natural... and everyone is convinced that they can trust this element without fear, certain that they can breathe and speak freely even underwater.

At that point, Mival (this time in his more usual human form, a form in which he normally could not breathe underwater) performs the same experiment as Paqen and confirms: "It seems that it is a blessing that the goddess grants to those who pray to her in this shrine! It seems that we have just found a way to allow all of us to explore the lower level!"

"Ah!," Sharinn takes a moment to offer a quick prayer of thanks to Eldath to make sure the power of the shrine works for her

Elias rises slowly from his kneeling position, the stillness of the shrine seeming to echo in the steady rhythm of his breath. The feeling that rests over him now is no fleeting calm—it is something enduring, like the deep peace beneath a quiet lake.

He looks around at the others, his eyes meeting each in turn. Ardana, still and strong, as constant as the oaths she serves. Paqen, feathers still slightly askew, but wide-eyed with scholarly awe. Mival, proud and eager, renewed in purpose. Sharinn, alert and composed, standing with quiet strength. Tarysaa, robes drying from her clever magic, her brow furrowed in thought, yet her spirit never faltering. And Zevriel—steady, grounded, a sword poised to meet the darkness without fanfare.

“Whatever force first placed this shrine here,” Elias begins, his voice low and steady, “must have known that one day, someone would need it. Eldath has answered us. The waters that barred our path now welcome us forward.”

He pauses, turning his gaze toward the dark descent that awaits them.

“But her blessing is not a shield. It's permission. A chance. Not safety.” He glances again to his companions. “We've all seen what's stirred in the halls above. What waits below is... older. Hungrier, perhaps. We should not meet it lightly.”

Then, despite the grim weight of his words, a flicker of a smile touches his lips.

“Still, if this is where the trail leads... I’d rather walk it beside the six of you than turn back wondering.” His tone softens, warm but resolute. “Let’s see what truths sleep beneath the flood.”

With that, Elias adjusts his coat and nods toward the drowned stairs. The journey, it seems, has only just begun.

Zevriel watches, a bit surprised, as his companions linger at the shrine in quiet prayer—and, one by one, each stands with wonder, changed by some new gift. He frowns, uncertain, then returns to kneel before the altar. His fingers trace the cold stone, the painted waterfall. He closes his eyes and lets the silence settle, longer this time.

He prays, not with fancy words, but from the heart, rough and plain: “Lady Eldath… I don’t know all the ways or the right prayers. Just want to keep folks safe, do what’s right. If you’re listening, I could use your help like you helped the others. Let me walk these waters as a friend, not a stranger.”

As the stillness settles over him, Zev feels the calm grow, spreading through his chest and hands, stronger than before. A quiet thought dawns on him—a bit sheepish, almost—Maybe it matters, how long you pray. Maybe it always mattered.

He remembers quick words muttered before battle, desperate wishes made in a rush. Maybe the gods listened, but only when a man took his time. He wonders, just for a moment, if some things that went wrong in his life had to do with never giving the gods a real moment, only hurried words.

He doesn’t dwell long—thinking too much was never his strong suit. But as the peace settles deep inside, he vows quietly: I’ll give the gods more time from now on. Just in case.

Rising, Zev tests the water, dunking his hand, then takes a cautious breath beneath the surface.

In fact, this time Zevriel feels the beneficial sensation gradually amplifying until it transforms, after about a minute, into the blessing that his predecessors received.

And the same happens to Sharinn, who prayed with him.

[[ OOC: OK, you got the picture, I guess: if Tarysaa does the same, she will receive the blessing too. ]]

Now that the waters are more "welcoming", going down the spiral staircase is easy - our heroes soon find themselves 20' below, in a large room.

The room measures 40' x 30' and features a solemn marble-paved floor, but is completely unfurnished. The spiral staircase in the room connects it to the level above.

The west wall has three large openings (10'), one in the northernmost section, one in the center and one in the southernmost section.

In the center of the southernmost region of the room, a circle of mystical runes has been engraved in the marble that emanate disturbing intermittent blue-green flashes. Inside the circle there is a portal of yellow-green shimmering light, whose changing intensity does not allow to distinguish the possible destination, but the pulsations of power that follow one another with an almost hypnotic cadence suggest that the magic of the portal is active and ready to manifest itself.

Seeing what appears to be the 'special circle' the Harpells sent her to find, Tarysaa will begin an 11 minute ritual -  Identify  - to confirm her suspicions.

Instead of touching it with a hand or finger, she uses her staff to touch the outer edge of the circle.  The engraved runes along the staff do not just glow but shine brightly with blue-white energy as the ritual progresses.

Making his way down to the next level Paqen would observe the runes and while Tarysaa is using identify he will investigate the room for any other objects of interest, patterns or entrances/exits that might be hidden.

42

Quote from Painted_Beyond >>

42

[[ OOC: I should have guessed the answer was '42', silly me... I'm just kidding about "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", with this OOC, don't worry ]]

Tarysaa recognizes the circle of runes at first glance as what the Harpells had sent her to investigate: the Permenent Teleportation Circle Permanent created by the famed Khelben 'Blackstaff' Arunsun centuries ago.

Through her magical ritual, the Harpells' envoy learns more details: the use of the Permanent Circle is not to teleport subjects elsewhere, but, on the contrary, to allow subjects who know the sequence of runes of the circle to teleport there without the possibility of error (if she wants, she can also copy the sequence of runes, since she has managed to identify it - but it still requires the casting of a Teleportation Circle spell to target the sequence and teleport there).

Meanwhile, Paqen has time to explore the room, which is large but essentially empty of furniture... There doesn't seem to be anything else of interest or secret. Only the numerous large exits...

 Elias slows as he reaches the base of the spiral stairs, the pressure of the water no burden now, his steps measured and reverent as the faint pulse of magic dances across the flooded chamber. His pale eyes scan the marble floor—and then they land on the runes.

He halts, breath catching for a moment. The circle. The shape. The language of magic etched in timeless grace.

“A permanent teleportation circle,” Elias says aloud, the words muffled only slightly by the water, though perfectly understood. “Anchored. Old. Intentional.” He drifts closer, keeping respectful distance from the glyphs as they pulse in their eerie green-yellow cadence.

“This isn’t some remnant of failed experiment or careless sorcery. Someone carved this to last.  To link.  To bring something... or someone... back and forth."

He casts a quick glance toward his companions, a rare unease creeping into his voice.

“It’s active. But that shimmer… it’s warded. I can’t tell where it leads. Not without stepping through.”

A beat of silence passes as he stares into the center of the circle, the shifting energy reflected in his eyes. The magic is beautiful. Ancient. And alive.

He exhales slowly, the thrill and danger of it dancing in equal measure on his tongue.

“This… may be the heart of it all.”

Tarysaa turns to Elias, "This is definitely the circle the Harpells wished to know about.  That it is still active after all this time is beyond belief."   

She gives a tight lipped grimace as she sets the rune sequence in her memory.

Once complete to her satisfaction she queries Elias, "Are you getting any impressions from the energies here?   Do you think this is linked to either the submersion or maybe that Deathlok Wight we encountered?   Or, a beacon that draws the Changelings here?"

Elias studies the circle with narrowing eyes, as though he could read its intent in the rhythm of its pulse.

“It shouldn’t be active,” he murmurs, more to himself than to the others. His gaze traces the glowing runes—weathered but unbroken. “Not after all these years. Magic this old doesn’t maintain itself… not unless something is feeding it. Or maintaining it. Or—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head slowly.

He looks up at Tarysaa, his expression thoughtful and troubled. “It could be any of those things. Or all of them. The Wight spoke of a trap, a deception. He died believing he had failed to protect this place. Perhaps he was meant to fail. If this circle was the goal all along…”

He steps a little closer, stopping just shy of the edge. The water shifts gently around him, and the light of the runes casts flickering shadows across his features.

“As for the Changelings…” Elias hesitates, then glances toward where Mival lingers. “If this place is drawing them… then it suggests something is calling out to what they are. Not who—but what.”

His voice lowers, the weight of the implication hanging in the charged silence.

“And if this is a beacon… then someone—or something—may yet answer it.”

((Elias has Keen Mind so he will memorize the runes himself))

Mival listens very attentively to the more experienced adventurers from whom he would like to learn - so much so that he does not realize that he has let his mouth fall open in wonder.

"In my case," the Doppelganger, now that he finally feels able to contribute his own, does so without hesitation "I did not feel a particular attraction for this place... I only came to the ruins because I knew that they were infested with monsters, so on the one hand they seemed to me the most suitable place for the monster I thought I was and on the other I hoped to be able to find my father there - as in fact I did. I have never perceived the existence of this magic. And it does not attract me too much even now, to tell the truth... I mean, it intrigues me, obviously - but I do not feel a particular good disposition towards it."

Zevriel wades down the stairs into the lower chamber, the cool water swirling around his legs as he scans the marble floor and strange, flickering circle. The runes and shifting light make his skin prickle, but he leaves the talking and careful study to the others—this is the kind of magic far outside anything he understands.

Instead, Zev hangs back, eyes following whoever carries the enchanted pebble or magical light. He keeps one hand resting on the hilt of his twinblade, listening to the mages and wise folk talk, but his gaze drifts toward the wide, dark openings in the western wall.

He leans in, speaking quietly to whoever stands nearby, “I’ll have a look down that way. Don’t know much about magic, but I can spot trouble if it’s hiding.” He moves toward the nearest western opening, careful and quiet, peering into the darkness to see what lies beyond, ready to follow the light as it moves—or to call back if he finds anything. (Perception 13; 16 if dis/adv)

Tarysaa turns to Mival, "Thank you for your observations.  They really do help determine our next actions.  And I am glad it is not a siren's song for the Changelings."

Replying to Elias, "Yes, it is very strange for this circle to still be  'active' after such a long time.   It does make one wonder if it is being 'fed' energies from the other end of the teleportation circle. AND, for what reason."

Elias rises slightly from where he had been stooped near the edge of the runes, his gaze lingering a moment longer on the flickering portal before he turns back toward the group.

"Whatever force sustains this circle... it's not meant for us to unravel, not here, not now," he says, voice low but resolute. "We’ve recorded it, marked its presence. That will satisfy the Harpells, I’m sure. But standing here staring at it won’t tell us what it’s guarding—or what it’s feeding."

He glances toward Zevriel already peering down the western passage and gives a small nod of approval.

"Let’s move. Before the next shadow in these halls decides to come looking for us. The answers we need aren’t glowing in that circle—they’re still waiting to be found."

He adjusts his cloak, briefly checking the small pack at his hip, and begins wading after Zevriel, his pale blue eyes scanning the murky corridor ahead. The moment of awe has passed. The scholar’s mind is back to work.

[[ OOC: Going down the spiral staircase you have arrived approximately in the center of the room, so I will assume the central one as the 'nearest western opening'. ]]

The wide central corridor soon brings our heroes to the threshold of a sort of crypt. This room measures 20' x 20' and features an elegant black marble-paved floor, from which two elaborate sarcophagi of the same material rise in the center, decorated with bas-reliefs; a monstrous theme in one case, a vegetal theme in the other.

Marble benches and candelabras surround the sarcophagi.

Wandering around the room, floating a few feet above the floor, is the translucent figure of a tall, very thin young woman (which makes her height stand out even more), with long straight hair carefully combed and elegant clothes, and facial features vaguely Mulan-like. The translucent woman is clearly desperate, her features twisted by despair and crying and translucent tears that copiously flow from her eyes - dissolving not far away only to be replaced, forever, by tears shed again...

Lost in its own grief, the creature has not yet noticed the newcomers.

[[ OOC: The "1" token marks the current posityion of the party ]]