Kazri follow the other with Oli behind her, trying to not bump into any of the illusions. She activates her Divine Sense and look around while walking.

"I agree. Let them alone, especially if they don't seem to pose any threat to us." Chill says, following along with the others.

As the party steps into the gilded chamber, a wave of warmth and golden light greets them—unnatural in the frozen silence of Ythryn’s shattered grandeur. The chamber is vast, with marble floors polished to a mirror shine and chandeliers of cut crystal casting soft radiance through the hall. A dozen noble figures drift through the space, their movements graceful, their voices musical. They are clad in flowing silk robes of sapphire, gold, and crimson, their faces hidden behind colorful hand masks adorned with feathers, jewels, and ribbons.

Laughter rises in lilting waves, and the air is thick with the sweet scent of sugared fruit and spiced wine. Servants in livery glide silently between the revelers, offering treats on silver platters—tiny confections that seem impossibly fresh. One dainty cake dissolves on the tongue like snow touched by sunlight. The illusion has substance.

A soft melody plays from no visible source, and the courtiers dance in languid spirals. One masked nobleman spins past Kazri and pauses, offering a gloved hand with a wink. “Care to join the reel?” he asks, voice bright and carefree. Another noblewoman leans in close to whisper a scandalous tale about a rival duchess who—apparently—once enchanted a peacock to sing opera.

You may speak, act, laugh, even flirt—and the illusions respond as though all is normal. The figments ask no questions about the adventurers’ presence. They offer no hint of fear or sorrow. Ask about Ythryn’s crash or the passing centuries, and they will blink in confusion or simply change the subject with polite amusement.

Beneath the surface charm, there is an eerie undertone. The celebration never ends, the smiles never falter. A toast is raised to the Archwizard Iriolarthas—long may he reign. Outside these walls, the city lies broken and silent. But here, caught in a perfect loop of enchantment, the last party of Ythryn dances on forever.

To your left an opening can be seen and a quick glance shows a hallway with doors.  Checking these chambers you can tell that they likely served as offices for bureaucrats who ran the citadel’s day-to-day operations. Each room contains a single table, a cabinet filled with ruined parchment scrolls, and a dresser containing writing materials. Everything is in disarray and covered in ice. The illusion from the ballroom does not extend to this area of the spire.

Opening the top left door way you looking inside you see that courtiers lounge on luxurious cushions inside this circular chamber, smoking from long pipes and dining on fruit. Against the back wall is a large harp, its strings being plucked magically to fill the room with haunting music. In the middle of the room, a gem-studded, cubic wooden chest sits on a round marble table with an octopus-shaped base.

On the north end of the ballroom you see a 7-foot-tall, 4-foot-wide window that overlooks a 35-foot-wide gap in the spire’s superstructure. On the far side of this gap, a similar window opens. There is no glass as the windows are open to the outside. Standing at the window you can feel the cold air but taking just a short step back the illusion of the room returns. 

Slightly taken aback by the gloved hand in front of her. She thinks for a moment, looks at the others quickly, and takes the nobleman's hand. "Sure. You will forgive me, for I haven't dance in ages." She tries to keep up. "Name's is Kazri. Well met."

Performance: 13

Rhogar glared at the apparition, but for once held his tongue knowing -- or at least believing-- Kazri would turn it down for the sake of the mission. Though on the off chance she doesn't he'd be floored at first, then look to other party members to gauge their reactions. Yet likely by the time he turn back around it would be too late to intercede. The impetus to do so was there as he took a step closer to the dancing pair, but with little more than some grumbling he focus his attention elsewhere.

Come what may of the interaction it yet served useful in affirming the party 'could' speak with the illusion. Yet having cautioned against it before, Rhogar mostly refrained from doing so as the party continued to make their way through the chamber. But he would keep a proverbial ear open to passing conversations, and so too would Gorrah from confines of Rhogar's hood.

"Wait... Irorlar? Isn't he...?" Rhogar muttered under his breath. But before he could get much further down the train of thought he's drawn from them as the music got slightly clearer during the group's exploration. After a quick glance thrown back to the dancers, Rhogar pulls out wand and activates its magic to see if anything in the top left room radiated magic... apart from the harp, of course. And if it did, he's sure to inform the others.

"Curiouser and curioser..." He uttered as his focus narrows down on the chest on the octopus base. 

(S/N: Edit post to be more in line with later conclusions)

Chill took the arm of one of the ladies and whirled a short dance with her as he moved through the room. Finishing with a courteous bow, he left her and moved through the left hallway and rooms with practiced precision, but it's not surprising that nothing can be found.  

Returning to Rhogar he reports in what he has found.

"This place is very odd.  We should move through it quickly."

Krom, shaking his head, waves away any attempts of contact made by the illusions as he follows the rest of the group towards the left hallway.
"Yes, Rhogar. Iriolarthas, the demi-lich we were told still haunts this forsaken city." The dwarf whispers to the dragonborn as the illusions mention the archwizard's name.
"This place is indeed strange, but as long as we are dealing with dancing illusions, I can live with that."
Krom gestures at the chest "Do you think is it safe to open?" The dwarf asks before continuing. "We should look for a stairway to the upper floors. Maybe we will have better luck with the other hallway."

Kazri hesitates only a moment before accepting the offered hand. The nobleman—tall and graceful in a deep violet coat embroidered with silver thread—bows slightly, his feathered mask dipping low before he sweeps her into the dance. The music swells as they take to the floor, and the world narrows to movement, rhythm, and memory.

Though she hasn’t danced in years, Kazri finds the steps returning with ease, as if the ballroom itself remembers for her. The courtly pattern flows effortlessly from her boots, the silk of her partner’s gloves brushing her hand in perfect time with the music. The laughter around her is warm, intoxicating—sincere. For a fleeting moment, she forgets the frost-rimed halls they passed through to reach this place, the skeletal remains of civilization outside, the silent dread that hangs over Ythryn.

Here, she is a guest of the court, a noblewoman among her peers, caught in a swirl of elegance and light. Her cheeks flush with warmth, and a genuine smile crosses her face as her partner spins her beneath the crystal chandelier.

Meanwhile, Rhogar remains apart. His eyes scan the room not with wonder but with scrutiny. He lifts his wand of magic detection, its dark Nether Oak surface humming softly in his grasp. With practiced precision, he sweeps it in a slow arc through the air, muttering the incantation under his breath.

Lines of soft, shimmering light begin to glow in Rhogar’s vision—the telltale auras of illusion magic woven thick through every inch of the room. The courtiers, the servants, the platters of sugared fruits and honeyed nuts—every figment glows faintly with the same arcane signature. But as he slowly turns, his wand trembles slightly in his grip, tugging subtly toward one point.

A chest.

It sits regally on a round marble table at the center of the lounge, its base sculpted in the likeness of an octopus whose curling tentacles support the slab. The chest itself is a masterwork—stained mahogany with silver trim and inlaid gemstones that glimmer like frozen stars. Unlike the rest of the room, it glows with no aura of illusion. It is real.

Rhogar narrows his eyes. He steps forward, careful not to disturb the swirling dancers. As he approaches the chest, the noble courtiers nearby offer him cordial nods, smiles, and a whisper of perfume—but as his shoulder brushes one of them, his hand passes through empty air. The illusion holds fast, refusing to break, even as his spell confirms the truth.

The chest is untouched by time. Real. Solid. Present in a way nothing else in this hall is.

All of a sudden, Kazri is brought back to a time long forgotten. To a younger and carefree self, and some memories floods back to her. "Dance. Yes. I used to dance a lifetime ago." She uses those long lost skills to make herself not looking like fool. She starts to feel a warmth that she hasn't fell for ages, another one of those forgotten feelings. She does her best to keep up with the Nobleman, and starts to feel like she belongs here. Something in the back of her mind tells her that she was supposed to do something, but she can't think of what could that be. "This is indeed a lovely place." She tells her dancing partner with a smile.

"Safe? No. But then again, that is more Chill's, uhh, in more his wheelhouse to make any determinations on that front." Rhogar replied to Krom, though its only after that he allowed his gaze to leave the chest and go to Chill. "If you do not mind terribly so, my friend. Though I have misgivings, whatever lies in there could be important for our future endeavors." He continued, patting Chill on the shoulder towards the end.

"But yes, let's proceed to the other side once Chill is done, and-..." He trails off briefly let out a low growl from the back of his throat. "Maybe collect Kazri on the way over. Though I sensed no enchantment magic at play, the power of that school of magic can at times overlap with illusions in more sinister ways if left unchecked for too long, Master Krom." The dragonborn further suggests while waiting for Chill to finish up with the chest. Once it's dealt with (or left be) Rhogar lead the way to the other side intending to start investigation from the northeast corner door, opening it for a look inside before potentially repeating the process with the other right-side doors if nothing of note first catches his attention.

"You are right Rhogar, that chest is probably trapped. But our Chill here is more than capable of dealing with it." Krom replies as he follows the dragonborn.
The dwarf pats the tabaxi on the arm, murmuring a hymn of guidance. "Just in case, Chill."

Krom then glances towards Kazri and gives the dragonborn a firm nod. "You are right about this as well, my friend. It may just be an illusion, but I don't like it at all. I know a hymn that might dispel it, but I fear the enchantment is too strong. We'll have to trust the lass to snap out of on her own."

Chill nodded and rubbed his hands together.  He moved to the chest and carefully inspected it.

Perception 29 + 2

Chill carefully inspected the chest, his practiced eyes scanning every edge and seam for pressure plates, false bottoms, or arcane glyphs—anything that might hint at a trap. But there was nothing. The wood was old but well-kept, the lock more decorative than functional, and the hinges free of any mechanical trickery. Still, experience had taught him that appearances could be deceiving.

As he straightened up and brushed the dust from his gloves, one of the noble ladies seated nearby rose with graceful poise, her silk gown whispering against the marble floor. Her hand, adorned with jeweled rings, gestured toward the chest.

“I do hope it has strawberries,” she murmured with a bright smile.

Chill opened his mouth to warn her—too late. With the elegance of a trained performer, she glided to the chest and, without hesitation, lifted the lid. A soft shimmer of illusory magic rippled across the surface as the interior revealed itself.

“There we are,” she said, and reached inside.

Chill tensed. But instead of triggering a trap or vanishing in a puff of arcane backlash, she calmly withdrew a silver plate piled high with plump, glistening strawberries. Their scent was immediately intoxicating—fresh, sweet, and so ripe they looked like they’d been picked moments ago under a summer sun. Chill had never seen strawberries that red, that perfect. Even his stomach gave an involuntary rumble.

Meanwhile, across the chamber, Kazri moved in time with the graceful waltz echoing through the ballroom. The nobleman who had taken her hand proved a charming partner. His small talk was light and effortless, the words flowing with practiced ease. He spoke of the pleasures of the city, of where to find the finest music and wine, and where the scholars met to trade philosophies.

“There’s a chest in the den,” he said, spinning her gently beneath a crystal chandelier. “It provides any food one might desire. Marvelous thing—quite the conversation piece at last week’s gathering.”

Kazri raised an eyebrow. “Any food?”

“Indeed,” he said with a grin. “The conjuration is wonderfully precise. Ask, and it provides.”

He went on to speak of the Hall of Weightless Wonder, a serene chamber where the mind could drift free of the body. “A place of meditation,” he said, “where even time itself feels lighter. The city’s elite often retire there to contemplate matters of import—or simply to escape a particularly dull evening.”

As they danced, Kazri found herself oddly at ease. The nobleman’s laughter was genuine, his steps in perfect rhythm with hers, and his presence oddly comforting. There was no sense of deceit in his words or bearing—only warmth, charm, and the confidence of one born into elegance.

"That's it! This is going too far, my friends. Time to leave this hallway before it's too late." Krom says to Chill and Rhogar as he watches the exchange between the nobleman and Kazri, and sees the noblewoman takes out from the chest the plate of strawberries.

Without hesitation, the dwarf marches straight towards Kazri and the dancing nobleman. As soon as he is within reach, Krom grabs the paladin't arm.
"Snap out of it, lass! You can do it! We have a quest to finish.This is no time to be playing princess!"

If his words alone fail to break the enchantment, Krom begins to chant a hymn of abjuration, calling upon Moradin's power to break whatever arcane effect holds Kazri in its grip.

Dispel Magic if necessary - 15

"That's... That's it?" Rhogar said incredulously after seeing what became of the box. But while he had half a mind to mangle the offending object for wasting their time, he's torn away from thoughts of destruction, and instead found regarded Krom with a look of alarm. But before he can say anything to calm or contradict the dwarf's word, the craftsman was already hustling across the dance floor, and all too likely brushing aside and passing right through any phantasm that might try in their delusion to dissuade them.

Taken aback though he was initially, Rhogar couldn't help but gratefully smile, before glancing over to Chill. "Hmph. Well, you heard him Chill. Time to get a move on." The dragonborn said just prior to striding after Krom wanting to lend a hand if it appeared needed but otherwise focusing his attention more on Kazri to try and sign of actual enchantment (literal or otherwise) upon her.

For the first time and a very long while, Kazri feels her body and muscle relax. The weight of the world is no longer on her shoulders. She does not feel the need to take a deep breath to calm herself down. Letting herself at ease, she smiles back at the nobleman's laughter. However, mid dance, she feels her arm grabbed by someone, and she flicks away the person at the rude interruption. Forgetting her strength, she pushes the stranger away. "Excuse me sir!" Then she stops and cocks her head, as if the face of the stranger seems to be familiar. "Master Krom! What are you doing here?" Then she sees Rhogar and then Chill. The mission, she forgot all about the mission! She shakes her head, for she is very confused right now. "The Den!" She cries to the others. "We must go to the den. The nobleman told me there is a chest there that can conjure any food that we desire. It might be part of the puzzle for this place!"

 Krom shakes his head "I don't see how a chest that can conjure illusory food is going to help us in our quest, lass." The dwarf gestures towards the other hallway "Let's search for a staircase to the upper floors." 

@DM

Chill watches as Krom confronts Kazri.  He's wary and alert to trouble.

Krom grabs Kazri's arm and that is enough to break the near enchantment Kazri is in as she is swept along in the dance with the nobleman.  The man, for his part, looks slightly perturbed for the briefest of moments as his dance is interrupted but the smile on his face quickly returns.  He bows graciously to Kazri. "My lady, your dancing is only surpassed by your beauty.  Thank you for the honor of sharing this moment." He glides off into the crowd.

You regather as a group and begin trying doors on the east side of the ballroom, in search of stairs up.

The first door you come to (NE) is easily opened.  Within  you see well-dressed revelers milling about, talking loudly to each other while servants carry bottles of wine and spirits around to refill their cups. Behind a rectangular counter, a bald, pale-skinned humanoid serves wine from an ornate bottle. The middle door on the east side of the room leads to the same place.

The southernmost door on the east side leads to a hallway with a couple of closed doors.  Chill may search them but he finds no traps.

One door leads to the north, the other to the east. Another hallway leads back west and overlooks the way you came in the the spire.  From here you surmise the hypnos magen was that spoke telepathically to you.  But you see no sign of it now.

Krom - Your dispel magic spell was not needed.

Going back to her old self, Kazri does an awkward bow to the Nobleman, and before she knows it, she looses sight of the gentleman. "My apologies Master Krom. We should leave this room at once."