Round 3

Silra moved with practiced stealth up the stairs, her teal eyes scanning the sanctuary above for threats. The morning light streaming through stained glass windows revealed two women sprawled across a pew near the altar—one stirring groggily, the other passed out cold. Too many variables, too much risk. She descended back to the basement quietly, her expression grim.

Jeane followed more slowly, each step deliberate and silent despite exhaustion pulling at her wings and muscles. The sanctuary above was bathed in cold morning light, dust motes glittering like trapped stars. Two women lay across a church pew near the altar—one stirring vaguely, the other deeply unconscious. The silence felt fragile, ready to shatter with any sudden movement or careless sound.

She took in the scene clinically: one civilian barely conscious, the other completely out. Evidence of their activities was everywhere—the scent of sex heavy in the air, clothing askew, bodies glistening with sweat and other fluids. Too much risk for silence alone. The smart move would be to...