As we are shifting into another dimensions go ahead and ignore chambers marble for now he will be waiting in the msyterium wing.
Also as you are now in the Spirit realm all paradox dice pools have a -2 penalty (while you cast from here), because this realm is a closer reflection to the supernal and more accepting of magic.
Absorbed paradox backlash only does bashing damage! Not lethal your track is 1L 2B
While Chambers sets about reading Auroras notes in silence, seemingly having said what he would on the matter and content to let Aurora go about her business, or maybe grateful enough she had accepted the chalk to not push anything further for today.
Aurora sets about casting her spell and by chance or auspicious intention the abyss takes notice trying to seep through with the supernal truth, to corrupt and warp her will into something else, something foul and wrong. This corruption she contains within herself suffering the physical malady of the abyss' touch but keeping her spell her own.
Choosing to for go a spirit road entirely Aurora uses the powerful spell road master to step side wise through the gauntlet itself, leaving no opening for anything else to traverse. Squeezing herself against the wall like unseen gauntlet and forcing herself through the cracks and imperfections wriggling and squirming for a timeless moment until she bursts through the other side into the large magnificent room.
Wider taller more ornate, the stone walls darker in some place, lighter in others covered in the glyphs and runes that seem so familiar yet despite her great skill with languages are indecipherable at glance.
The stained glass windows of the window seats stretching high high above her the myriad of colors and lights making up figures and items and places each of the windows seems to hold a vast array of information.
The Alter, a well crafted lump of stone in the fallen world here is jet black and ornate, carved and gilded, a groove in the surface seems to suggest something should rest there, but that something is missing.
The room is otherwise unoccupied but the very air of the spirit world here is heavy and silent like the hush of a vast library minus the floating dust, it is an oppressive silence, it weights in tangible powerful manner that tries to enforce an unspoken authority upon the Shaman. The door out, that should in theory lead to the rest of the circle is present old beyond reckoning of iron and wood, the stairs down into the lower halls of the mysterium wing remain as they are in the fallen blocked off, uncleared by the current order members, whoever the trap door in the distant ceiling that leads to their hidden roof space, where the hallow resides connecting fallen and supernal in the smallest of fountains, can be seen.