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Emerging on the other side of the false wall, Zephyrus and Naviela were greeted by a remarkably average looking room. Compared to their previous settings, anyway. The hands did not pursue them through the passageway-- why was anyone's guess. A peak through the wall again would quickly reveal that the last of the Wallmasters were skittering back up the wall and into the dark abyss above. Perhaps little Jillian was enough to sate their hunger-- assuming Wallmasters ate at all.

The room wherein they now stood did in fact have a ceiling, however. A very high ceiling, but at least you could see it. Two lit torches hung on each of the four walls. As with the rest of the temple, there were no windows. But also no doors. At the rooms center, an ornate pedestal stood erect. Ancient Sheikah glyphs writhed around its surface. If the images were meant to tell a story, it was incomprehensible-- resembling something closer to a mass of stone worms slithering around the column.  

A glorious red stone sat atop the pedestal, delicately held in place by three bent metal prongs. It was just large enough to require two hands to carry. A soft red glow resonated from the ruby, pulsing like a heart beat. Altogether, it was a breathtaking sight, exuding an aura of esteemed value and plentiful wealth.  

There, at the foot of the column supporting the glorious stone, sat poor Hogarth. Nursing a terribly wounded eye, it was clear to see how the young rock-eater had managed to safely clear the bridge while rolling. A trail of blood, led to a decently sized puddle at Hogarth's feet. Hand pressed firmly against the offended eye, he lifted his head with a violent shudder. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but only a whimpering sob escaped him. Fat goron tears rolled down his cheeks.

It was a pitiful sight. One that seemed to make Lethe very uncomfortable as she remained frozen by the entrance, curiously allowing the others to go ahead and attend to Hogarth while she anxiously rubbed her arm and watching in silence.