Round 2

As Sister Hale led the way into the church, her lantern casting flickering shadows on the walls, Jeane's eyes scanned the space with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity. The air was heavy with the scent of decay and something else, a noxious tang that made her nostrils flare. Silra followed closely behind, her dagger at the ready, as they ventured deeper into the ruined structure. The weight of the building seemed to press down upon them, its stones mismatched and worn, as if built by hands not quite human.

The sound of the roof creaking above them was a constant reminder that this place had been neglected for far too long. Jeane's gaze flickered to the entrance, where Silra stood watch, her eyes narrowed against the dim light. The church seemed to be waiting for them, its silence oppressive and foreboding. Something about this place felt wrong, not quite undead, but built wrong – a sense of unease that settled in the pit of Jeane's stomach like a cold stone.

As they moved deeper into the church, Sister Hale's hand on her holy symbol offered a small comfort, a reminder of the duty that had brought them here. The ash-covered pews seemed to stretch out before them like skeletal fingers, a grim testament to the city's abandonment. And yet, despite the sense of decay and neglect, Jeane felt a spark of hope – a chance to rebuild, to restore this place to its former glory, and bring light to the darkness that had consumed Gravehill.