The pickaxe felt really good for some reason. Like it was the perfect wait for lugging around in a mine or something. Like many things now, Helena blamed it on the phenomenon twisting Jackson into whatever the heck it now was. The light was nifty, too - worked well, not flickery, lit up the stuff in front of her. Given the fact that the cave was already lit, she didn't really keep the headlight on, since the small amount of night vision she'd have might come in useful. Last but not least, the helmet protected her head more than her coat's hood could ever hope. Speaking of which, she'd taken the hood off before hatting up, peripheral vision and whatnot being fun to have around.
As she slowly walked forward, the (barely audible) sound of rain and her own footsteps her only companions. After some time, small sparks of colour began to appear here and there on the walls of the tunnel, becoming larger and more common the farther she trekked. She caught herself several times having nearly stopped to look at the unbelievebly pretty sight. However, this was slightly offset by how conscious she was of her elbows, bow, bag and such, taking every care to not approach the glittery, dazzling and crystalline faces. The rain was still there, though, helping to calm her a bit.
...Wait. No. This was wrong. Sounds do not work like that. She briefly stopped, maybe a second or two, to get her auditive bearings. Yep, the sound was coming from behind her, where the trapdoor was. And yep, it was louder now than it had been further up the path. Great. Another fault in the illusion or whatever. So the source was either up front and she was getting mislead to believe it was coming from the other way, the sound was actually coming from the correct direction but the intensity was being messed with, or there wasn't actually any sound of rain at all. Sweeeet.
She was busy trying to ignore the beautiful sights and unsettling sounds when the tunnel widened into what could only be described as the average underground room. The lamps here were much brighter than they were everywhere up to that point, approaching something closer to typical indoor lighting. The light shone upon a large wood door, seemingly cared for regularly. The grain was smooth, the surface polished - lacquered, even. The metal hinges seemed like they wouldn't make a sound, what with how pristine, rustless and untarnished they appeared. An equally well-maintained chain linked the door's handle with a large rod impaled into the nearby rock, the ensemble looking very sturdy.
Well there was no fucking way she was going through another door alone, as inviting as it seemed. Perhaps a bit *too* inviting, actually. Helena backtracked to the exit as quickly as she could while still acting safe (she did not want to detonate the entire mine by accident). When she arrived at the bottom of the ladder, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out. "Hey Cobe! Get down here, I've found something!" While she waited for a reply/movement, she thought a bit. Why would you lock a wooden door with such a heavy chain?