When the lock was finally made bare to the eye, so too were ropes of golden chain. In each link sat magicks that had interwoven and twined together in one very foreign strand. A very old and well schooled mage could make out the words and pieces of this spellcraft, but most others couldn't even come near to calculating such a thing. Matter, Time and Space had come together and used their own powers intertwined to see this done. Once undone, the lock shattered, and the chains began to fall away, the magick itself unweaving and winging unfettered into the night. It didn't make it far, certainly not out of the circle. A word, snarled and shouted to the bare night sky from the priestess, those magicks were engulfed in utter abyss and pulled inside the pool of shadow.

The winds blew over the key wielder, the dragon and the priestess, reaching a howling peak. Slowly, the blood that had outlined the ancient design carved into the stone began to stir. With that stirring, so came the deep and notable rumbling of the Earth beneath their feet. Aska remained absolutely relaxed and still, and that calm was extended to Mura. It would be a test to see if the key wielder would be able to staunch his impulse to run and instead, stick around. The blood surged through the design, but it rapidly became noticeable that said blood was beginning to disappear somewhere. Sharp eyes might be able to tell that it was disappearing into that writhing bit of shadow that had been unlocked, but only if they were very sharp and attentive.

Meanwhile, the portal had become reconnected, led out of it's forced isolation. The abyssal shadows reached out as if they had formed into a giant hand, but it was fairly harmless as the only individual standing nearby was, in fact, the priestess, and she knew well that those shadows wouldn't harm her in the least. In the distance, as the rumbling intensified, a resounding crack echoed through the entire city and outward. Aska spoke in quiet Latin to her protégée. "Kneel, little sister. My lord comes." Those changing eyes looked back at the key wielder, if he was still there, moving to English once more. "You would be wise to kneel, wielder. My lord will come, and you have not earned the right to stand in his presence. Risk your head, otherwise." Her attention turned itself back to the depths of that newly reformed passage. Thunder rumbled overhead, and it made the dark oppressive, like a heavy mantle carried. Time seemed to crawl.