The Ronso bows. "I will not defy the will of Spira, I merely meant to praise you for rejecting the ways of your kind."

Zveran does everything in his power not to scoff.

"Of course, you have passage. The temple is open to you."

Zveran frowns. "Temple?"

"...Can't you feel it?" Aten asks quietly.

"No..." Zveran looks ashamed. "I...I can't feel things as strongly."

Hello, little one. We meet yet again. 

Aten drifts towards the feeling. ...I know you?

If you only knew how many times we had spoken, little flame. Lead your summoner to me. I will try and guide him true.

"Aten, I can feel...something. What's wrong?"

"...I don't...know. This way."

He leads the way towards the temple, almost in a daze.

Zveran follows Aten, casting worried looks back at Masque. 

Masque gives a slight shrug, following after Zveran.

Here, here Aten. Tell him to lay his hand on the stone inside.

Ahead of them, a stone wall moves aside, the wall surrounded by pulsing red lines.

"I- you need to-" He flickers, steels himself. "It'll- hurt? But you need to...put your hand on the stone?"

"Okay..." Zveran does so, and then-

"AH!" He pulls his hand back, blood staining the stone. "Fucking- It bit me!"

Masque startles, reaching for a dagger, although what they're going to do against a wall is anyone's guess.

Aten twitches and flinches. "I- I said it might- hurt."

He's weak, Aten. He won't make it. 

The wall slides open, blood-red veins pulsing sickly. 

He will. He will. Aten's trying to convince himself as much as Natassa.

Oh, little flame. He won't. Send him through anyway.

"Aten? Are you all right?"

"I- yes. The- the fayth. Is through there."