Round 7

As Jeane's words wove a spell of transformation around Hera, the air in the church basement seemed to vibrate with anticipation. The scent of incense mingled with a darker, more primal aroma that made Abby's skin prickle with excitement and dread. Silra watched the tableau unfold with a mixture of detachment and professional interest, her eyes narrowing as she weighed the risks of their precarious situation.

Jeane's voice was hypnotic, each word a spell in itself, as she drew Hera into the ritual circle. The elf rogue's gaze flicked to Abby, seeking reassurance in the steady presence of her protector, but Hera's eyes remained fixed on Jeane, her expression a complex blend of reverence and something deeper. Silra's thoughts turned to their current predicament: an abandoned church on the outskirts of the city, with the constant threat of discovery looming large.