Whatever Ellis says, half-risen on the landing and looking down at the dragon, the brass city, the watchtowers, is not loud enough to carry. It's swallowed up by the spell that holds this temple. His face is very grave.

Instinctively, he focuses in on the endless, looping flow of whispers that's nipped and pulled at the edges of his awareness since their descent into the main chamber. Is that ancient, crushing attention present in this room too?