The sound of clanking armor roused Elvalia from her thoughts, which were centered nowhere in particular. Her fierce eyes shot open and she turned her head to glance out of the bars which kept shut the only exit from her prison, listening intently as the footsteps grew louder. Before long, an unfamiliar man stepped into view, a body hanging motionlessly over his shoulder. Her eyebrow arched as he deposited said corpse next to her cell door, the glint of a metal object on it catching her eye as it fell.<span style="font-style: italic">A jest, perhaps? Are the guards trying to poke fun at our fate?</span>she mused, though the man did not look like those she was used to seeing.<br/><br/>After he left, her curiosity got the better of her and she quickly got to her feet, her light clothing enabling her to move noiselessly. By the time one of her fellow prisoners mentioned the new body, she was already kneeling at the door of her cell and examining it closer. "It would seem so; though I am certain he has seen better days," she responded, her voice low and sonorous despite her relative youth. The metal flashed against the light of the ever-dimming torches, though it was partly covered by the ragged folds of cloth the body was dressed in.<br/><br/>There was just enough space between the bars for her to reach her arm through, and she did, pressing up against the cold metal and straining to push further. Her lack of height meant the same for her arm length, and she often cursed it, but after a few moments of stretching she managed to grasp a fold of cloth strongly enough to pull it closer. She yanked back the fabric that was covering the metal object and her eyes grew wide; inside of it sat a ring of keys. She quickly snatched it up and pulled it through her cell door, a small jingling coming from them as they slid and collided with one another in their flight. She stood up and stared at the ring in her hand for a moment longer before grabbing one of the keys and sticking her arm back through the door, spinning the key back towards herself and fidgeting around until she found the keyhole. No good, this one didn't want to go in. At a glance there appeared to be about a dozen keys, and she had hardly expected to find the right one in the first go. She tried again, and again, steadily going from one key to the next. Six passed, and she was beginning to feel anger boiling inside of her, though her outward appearance maintained the same impassive expression she always had. Was this truly nothing but a joke? Was she to try every one of these keys, and find that not a single one of them was the means to her freedom?<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Click.</span><br/><br/>Her eyes went wide again as the seventh slid in effortlessly. Her wrist moved itself to turn the lock without even a conscious thought from her, and she stared dumbfounded as the door slowly swung open, singing the tune of unfathomable years of rust and neglect. It wasn't long before her expression returned to normal, and she took a quick glance around her cell - though what she was looking for, she did not know. Slowly, silently, and with great caution, she stepped over the limp body of the Hollow that previously held her means of freedom and looked up and down the hallway. This seemed too convenient, and she kept her guard up because of it. If it were a trap of some sort, she had no means of defending herself; but what could that man hope to gain by giving her freedom then taking it away so suddenly?