With a muted crack—the sound of its impact against the floor muffled by the ancient enchantment which seems to have effected everything but the bells—the brass tongue falls away.

The gutted bell rises very (very, thanks to Laura's weight) slowly but steadily toward the cavernous ceiling. Luckily, the darkness doesn't quite manage to completely cloak the fact that Laura is currently taking a one way ticket toward an unappealingly narrow chain sized hole.