Satina also waits, uncertain as to what everyone is doing. Zahara to the north side of this chamber, Zephirah wandering off towards the next chamber, and Ophelia evidently investigating the very far side of the next chamber. She moves a bit towards the other chamber, hoping to keep near most of the party. "We really ought to keep together," she mentions. 

(OOC - I'm presuming characters are most positioned where they should be on the map. Other than Ophelia who would need to be much further west to use Mage Hand I think.)  

Ophelia can sense that the false door on the wall radiates an abjuration aura. There are engravings on the false door too faint to make out from her current distance... Her mage hand produces no response from the slab on the floor.

Zahara turns her focus back to the hidden seam in the northern wall. Step by quiet step, she approaches. 

Holding her breath, she raises her staff, not to strike, but to test. Slowly, deliberately, she extends the carved end and lets it touch the wall with a soft tap. Once. Then again, sliding it gently along the edge of the concealed door, as if hoping to coax a reaction from the stone without triggering a reaction.

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Let’s see what you’ve kept hidden.”

She presses the staff forward, watching intently, should the wall give even the slightest shift, she’s ready to spring back.

Zahara gently tests the door with her staff (I'm taking your post to mean that you are only gently pressing--please clarify if otherwise). Nothing happens.

From her new perspective, Ophelia can see that the southern chapel (area 8a) contains a statue of a lean man with the head of an animal with a curved snout and erect squared ears. The northern chapel (area 8b) holds a statue of a strong, powerful man with a falcon’s head topped with a solar disk.

Ophelia recoils from the Abjuration magic she senses from the false door in the western chamber.  She withdraws, both herself and her Mage Hand.

Ready to follow her companions north or south through the secret doors, she points back at the false door and at the slab to her companions with a warning index finger, then gestures to either side at the chapels in the southern and northern wings.

"Wardingly, wardingly weirded,
False the west door before us,
Traps within traps still shielded,
Remnants of an ancient chorus,
In wings of which lie chapels of stone,
Statues of men with heads not their own,
Land beast to the left of me, falcon to the right,
Here I am stuck in the middle with you."

Zephirah tilts her head, parsing Ophelia’s singsong warning a beat late; then curiosity wins out. She pads a few steps into the main axis, just far enough to glimpse each chapel: the jackal-snouted figure brooding to the south, the falcon-crowned guardian to the north, and the black-granite pharaoh presiding between. “Fitting company for eternal vanity if I'm correct,” she murmurs, taking mental note of what she believes might be gods arrayed at his sides. (Religion: 15)

Retracing her steps to Satina’s flank, she lifts her viol in a half-shrug. “Had to glimpse our host’s honor guard. Better we map the open ground now—spare us any stone surprises stalking up behind later.”

Zahara exhales slowly, tension easing from her shoulders, at the door’s stillness. 

Her brow furrows in thought. “Too stubborn for touch,” she murmurs. “Let’s try voice.”

She adjusts her grip on the staff, pressing its carved tip once more to the seam of the hidden door. Her other hand lifts, fingers splayed, and with a practiced whisper in Osiriani, she calls upon her magic:

“Tephet en kheper.” Open and become.

She holds her position, watching for the faintest movement, the softest shift of stone.

Satina first watched as Zephirah head to peak west, then return to her side. She then watches Zahara as she works on opening the hidden door. "Perhaps a stronger push will open the door?" she suggests, unsure the magic will work or not. 

Zephirah eyes the wall in which the secret door is set and lifts a cautioning hand. “If we have to muscle it, remember what happened before—these doors like to greet us with pits. Let’s loop a rope around waists or brace on a column before we shove; that way if the floor drops, someone up top can haul the rest back up instead of diving after them.”

Satina grins, "You'll just use your strength to pull me from danger once again, Zephirah?  Take care you don't hurt your other shoulder!"  Despite the joking, she does think the idea is sound and agrees to the rope should she need to make the attempt. 

Ophelia meanders back east into the first room behind her companions, Mage Hand at the ready and Detect Magic aura still active.  Still mumbling.

"Be we the first to tread these halls?
Or first at least since eons past,
On statues gaze and pit traps fall,
And if so, shall we be the last?"

Zephirah lets out a soft laugh. “If you tumble again, I’ll haul—sore shoulder and all—but you might land faster than I yank.” She winks, then turns to the concealed panel. “By the way, how did you two spot this seam in the first place? Any hint of an opening catch?”

She slides a palm along the surrounding masonry, tapping lightly for hollow echoes and brushing carved grooves in the frieze, searching for a recessed lever, pivot pin, or pressure knot that might release the hidden door without another brute-force shove. (Investigation: 14)

"I'm sure you'll do fine Zephirah, if it comes to that," Satina says back with a smile. "I actually spotted the door on the other side. But probably was just luck seeing it."  She shrugs, knowing the tiefling is usually much brighter than her. 

Zephirah:

The door doesn't exhibit any response to Zahara's coaxing.

Zephirah can see that there is an ever-so-faint outline of a crease in the shape of the door within the stone wall.

With the door not opening for Zahara, Satina moves forward ready to see if she can push it open.  First though, she gets some rope from her pack and ties it around her waist.  She walks over to Zephirah, handing her the other end. "Well, I guess I am putting my life in your hands then," she says with a grin.  Assuming she accepts it, Satina then goes and tries to push the door open. (Athletics: 19) 

Zephirah loops the free end of Satina’s rope around her forearm and plants her boots, giving the line an approving tug. “I hand my skin to your shield every brawl—we’ll call it an even gamble,” she teases. As the fighter squares up to shove, Zeph braces and adds, “If the stone won’t yield, we may need the gods’ help. Westward I spotted two guardians: Set—jackal-snout, lord of storms and deserts—and Ra, falcon-headed, crowned with the sun. Could be this panel listens to their authority rather than brute strength. But let's push first, and pray later.” She tightens her grip, ready to counterbalance Satina’s heave or haul her back at the first hint of shifting floor.

Zahara steps back as Satina approaches, watching silently as the rope is tied, and as Zephirah anchors herself with quiet confidence.

As Satina braces to push, Zahara steps to the side, her gaze flicking to the west, to the dark statue Zephirah had described, and then back to the door.

One hand tightens on her staff.

“Satina,” she says evenly, “your strength may carry us forward, but step carefully"

She stands ready, eyes on the door, magic on her lips, should anything stir beyond.

Satina's efforts pay off, as the door stubbornly slides open. Satina's light reveals a stone corridor stretching into darkness. Those with darkvision can see that it turns left, to the west.

As her efforts pay off, Satina glances back at Zephirah with a satisfied grin. "Great! Glad I didn't have to put your shoulder to the test this time," she comments. "And you know, in retrospect the whole push first, pray latter comment sounds like it might be backwards. But it worked, this time!"

She peers down the passageway, keep her eye out first for any more signs of traps along the path. (Perception: 4)

As the hidden door grinds open with a deep, stone-on-stone groan, Zahara’s posture stiffens, her hand tightening around her staff. The air from the passage is stale, thick with dust and disuse.

“Well done,” she murmurs to Satina, her voice quiet.

“The passage turns west. Hidden doors are rarely built to lead nowhere, but what they guard is not always meant for the living.” She eyes the floor with particular scrutiny, wary for pressure plates.

Perception: 13