No. It's not spelunking. There are stairs. Just— gimme a sec.

[ Nash diverts to a nearby tree to fashion a makeshift torch from a stick and some twigs, mud, and a bit of the gunpowder he keeps in his pockets. It's not his best handiwork, but it'll be better than the dark. ]

Can you light it?

[ And then quieter. ]

If this doesn't work, maybe we're supposed to take the way on faith.

[ Not actually his usual style. ]