Letting go certainly took Halkkor by surprise. His shouting stopped. For a moment, as we first slipped out into the open air, he went entirely silent.
Then, below me, I heard an incredulous whisper: "Are you fucking crazy?"
I guess I expected to go down like Gandalf and the Balrog, battling heroically as we fell hundreds of stories toward our doom. But it didn't work out like that. Halkkor was either too stubborn or too smart and he'd decided not to let go of my feet.
So we just fell. In an almost reverent silence.
As the lava loomed closer, I realized that I should probably try and do something before we splashed into the yellow-orange liquid that looked like it could melt anything on contact. So, awkwardly, I tried to pretzel myself into a position in the air that would allow me to beat Halkkor's hands with my fists until he let go of me.
I slammed my balled fists against his fingers, but all it did was send white-hot pangs up my legs. Halkkor looked up at me and smiled. His grin looked particularly sinister against the backdrop of a rapidly approaching ocean of lava.
"You have to teleport sooner or later," he shouted over the rush of air. "I'm not letting go."
So I reached down and punched him in his smug face.