Further away, at the entrance of the chamber, Aysen and Samael were locked in vicious combat.

“You’ll pay dearly for that insult!” Aysen hissed, baring his fangs in a infuriated snarl.
“Little brother, one day you’ll have to learn to control that temper of yours,” Samael chortled, dodging Aysen’s attacks with ease.
“Don’t call me that!”
“Why, it bothers you?”

The answer was a growl. Aysen launched himself at Samael again.

Back in the cell, Sora was still searching for a rock to serve her purpose; after many minutes of scraping her fingers up, she found a rock, big and sturdy, and pried it loose, not caring that her fingers hurt like Hell itself.

She placed the rock against the door, and supported herself with one hand; in a sweeping motion, she stood on the rock and thrust her hand, up till her shoulder, out the door.

Sora cried out quietly in pain as she felt the joint crack—it comforted her that the keys were only a palm length away.

She reached out just a tiny bit more, and her hand touched iron.