Round 2

The wind died suddenly, leaving an oppressive silence that pressed against their ears. The ground beneath them began to pulse—a slow, deliberate rhythm rising from deep below the earth.

Silra crouched low at the crossroads, pressing her palm flat against the ground while her eyes scanned every inch of the shadowed streets around them. The vibration came again—rhythmic now, unmistakably purposeful—and she recognized it instantly: something massive was climbing toward the surface below their feet. This wasn't some petty guardian or trapped treasure chest. Whatever stirred in Gravehill's depths moved with the patient certainty of something ancient and hungry—an entity that had lain dormant for centuries, perhaps millennia.

Sister Hale knelt again, this time not in prayer but to press both palms flat against the earth where the rumble originated strongest. The ground wasn't just vibrating—it was breathing. Each pulse seemed to draw warmth from her fingers, the stone cooling until her skin felt it would stick fast. "This thing..." she said slowly, standing with obvious effort, "has been here since before stones were laid." Her eyes found Jeane first, steady and unflinching despite the fear that clenched cold in her gut.

The air grew colder still as the rumbling intensified—something massive shifting its weight deep beneath Gravehill's ruins.