Thanks to Roxanne observations, the unlikely fellowship managed to slip through the constricting walls without an issue. There was an uneasiness settling upon them. Urraca's already quiet nature further subdued, and Roxanne seemed all the more flighty. The unintroduced ether mare, however, was calm. Her expression was devoid of any traces, a deadpan that didn't reach up to her mercurial eyes. They seemed all knowning, dug into your soul the minute she looked at you, and despite the silence they didn't need to know what she was thinking. Somehow, they all knew she was eager to continue, tittilated by the idea of what possibly could lay before them.

Truthfully, Malvolia unsettled the others.

The ghastly mare fell to the back, her strides carefree and and unhurried, while the others pushed forward. Roxanne somehow found herself leading the party again. Ignimar couldn't help but question the female... there was a delicacy to her packs that betrayed she cared for aesthetics over practicality. Her bedroll even had some embroidered trim and tassles - completely pointless and likely to be ruined the deeper they went. Urraca just seemed... lost down here. While vusually she looked prepared, there was a glaze at the corners of her eyes that Inigmar was familiar with. Fear.

Thankfully, the flagstone passage and carved stone walls were dreary but boring. There were no grotesques or fanciful carvings to alert to traps or mechanisms. Despite the stale air and darkness, they wouldn't have known they were in a harder section of the dungeons. That was, until the two masks...

The path came to an abrupt wall with two arched doors. Where the rest of the tunnel had been plain and uninteresting, the carvings of these exits were extraordinary. One was lined with roots, flowers, and mushrooms all carved meticulously into the rock. At the rest of the archway, a flat mask whose face was upturned into the most joyous smile. The other, the trim was less inviting. Bones and skulls stacked up to a crown of jawless skulls that peaked into a flat, haunting mask with a frown of despair. All the Coursers stood before them, staring in the silence.

"Well, this seems fairly straight forward." Ingimar muttered.

Both masks spoke in unison, "I wouldn't be so sure of that."

The horses startled. The haunted voices that emerged from the stone faces were equally feminine and masculine, young and old, a whisper and a laugh.

"Make your choice wisely, Coursers." The smiling face mused.

"For failure will meet you in one of our paths." The frowning mask immediately followed.

"Or maybe not, who actually knows?"

"Listen closely as to make the right decision."

"Their passage leads to death." The smiling face grinned.

"And one of us is lying." The frowning face mewled.

Ingimar's face twisted, lips curled like he'd tasted something sour. Malvolia smiled up to the masks, who'd now fallen quiet, in a silent reverence. Urraca mumbled something beneath her own breath that betrayed her uncertainty, while Roxanne glowered up at the two riddling masks. Silence enveloped the fellowship for an undetermined amount of time. To some it felt like eternity, to others, perhaps, like no time at all.

"Well what do we do?" Ingimar muttered.

"Isn't it obvious?" Roxanne retorted. The blue roan stallion shot her that sour look, a sneer pulling at his lips. "We choose the frowning mask."

"You think so?" Urraca's soft voice bleeted.

"Obviously. The smiling face is far too ambiguous until it's direct statement of success, while the frowning face was the only one to warn us of failure. And would you really think that there's a world where both these passages are completely safe?"

Urraca shrunk beneath Roxanne's logic, and no one else spoke up.

"So?" Roxanne posited.

One final exchange of glances and they entered the frowning door.