Why Istasha had actually come down into these depths at the rumor of another dungeon born was beyond her. Though, Cthuhlu hadn't made an effort to return to the upper levels. Rather, when she found them here with that Fetch, they were determined to remain and locate the spawn of a ritual circle.

          "Ritual circle?" She had asked, dark eyes squinting towards her fellow dungeonborne before they panned toward the other figure dusted in silver. They seemed just as shaken by the presence as Cthuhlu, however where the Dread One's body wreaked with curiosity, the silver-touched smelled of confusion. It was faint, a whisper as if there was nothing within Fetch at all. It wouldn't surprise Istasha, seeing as this unknown face watched her with a detachment she often only found in her kin when they were at their weakest and most unbothered. Her grey and coal eyes squinted. Was Fetch like them?

          "I cannot think of another purpose," Cthuhlu responded through a damp coat, perspiration dripping from his verdant hide and sizzling upon the stone floor.

          "Let me go with you, perhaps we can find whatever spawned from it together." Istasha proposed, stepping closer towards the herculean beast, her words soft and yearning.

          "No." The response was immediate, a complete halt to her plan.

          "There is safety in numbe-"

          "No," Cthuhlu growled, lowering their crown so that their sharp, acidic eyes bore through shadows. Istasha took a step back, mindful of the small sentient mushroom upon her wither - it would be crushed immediately if she chose to fight Cthuhlu on the matter, and she had no intention of allowing such to happen.

          The Dread One left them, two silent femme-shaped creatures with Dungeon Courser skin. Istasha glanced toward Fetch, who did the same. "Well," the spotted ether cooed, "Let us see what it is we can find." Keeping Fetch near would be the best way to determine if she was like them, and therefore to be trusted.

          Unfortunately, the furnace was everything Istasha feared. Despite the tolerable humidity, the temperature was unbearable. Heat seemed to sit upon her back, collect beneath her mane, and hide in the corners and folds of her pelt. Beads of sweat slipped across her face in an unbecoming fashion and for the first time in perhaps her life, Istasha wished to escape a section of the dungeon. It was so miserably hot...

          And Fetch seemed otherwise unbothered. Not that they visually appeared so, no. Their coat was as dark and damp as Istasha's, if not more so. They had been down here with Cthuhlu prior after all. A portion of Istasha wished no concern for Fetch, though the very idea that they may be linked to the dungeon in ways only she and her eldritch kin could understand left Istasha taking the stranger's well-being into consideration. Though the very admittance in the solitude of her own head had her eyes rolling.

          They couldn't stay long regardless. The heat, despite the lingering damp in the air, wasn't good for her little fungal partner. It seemed to have shrunk into itself, hiding where it had attached itself to her withers, a silent and hibernating companion to this adventure. It was better that way - less the think about.
That was when she saw it - a shadow of an equine across the wall. Istasha paused, following the pitch of the shadow to hopefully find its source. On the other side of the magma-shelf was a red figure, at the very least ungulate. It too paused, seeming to notice them, but through the wafting cinders and heat waves, it was difficult to make out details.

          "There," Istasha panted. Fetch turned their attention and only hummed in response. "Do you recognize them?"

          "No, I do not."

          Istasha surged forward across the quaking magma, the rocks unsteady in the pools of molten rock. Her plum hair clung to her pelt in wringing tentacles, logged by sweat and plastered to her nape. The closer she drew, the larger the figure became, and the more detail fought through the obscurity of the atmosphere.
Winks of gold and dark hair, a formidable confirmation, and unkind eyes... Whoever it was, its demeanor was unfriendly, if not hostile.

          "Wait," Fetch's beckon pierced the hum of the volcano.

          Istasha found herself pausing though her eyes never left the foreign figure.

          "Perhaps we should turn back." Was all that they offered. What? Were they afraid? Did they feel or know something that Istasha was obviously missing?
The spotted rabicano gambled a glance back towards Fetch to examine their demeanor and expression only to find it once again lacking and devoid. By time she turned back the red figure was gone.