The teleport took them to an immense and mighty cavern, shrouded almost completely in darkness save for whatever lights they had chosen to bring (though in Tarrant's case, none were necessary; both earth and dark fae flowed with intense strength and power here). The cavern itself was unworked, unshaped by any intelligent hand, but to say it had been ignored by the denizens of the underworld would be a lie. Creatures of some sort had clearly been here; they had left behind bones. Countless bones, in fact, that littered the floor almost to the point of covering it. Strewn in between them all were arrow points, sword blades, scraps of armor, frames that had once supported shields. The walls of this cavern bore countless scars from violent assaults by lightning or fire.

This was a killing field.

On one side of the cavern, an immense portcullis blocked off further passage, its graceful metal bars rising from the ground as if they had been sung out of the rock and shaped by light and laughter. On the other side, massive metal doors bristled with spikes and menace. Approach them and writing on the doors began to shine with magical light, in a tongue that Cowabunga might recognize as something close to Goblin.

Which way? And how?