Round 5

As Sister Hale knelt at the altar stone, her face pale with a mix of fear and duty, Jeane's crimson eyes narrowed against the darkness that seemed to press in from all sides. The air was heavy with an otherworldly energy, one that Silra's elven senses struggled to pinpoint amidst the creaking wood and shifting ash. The bell tower loomed above them, its angles subtly off true, like a giant's miscalculation, as if it had been built for something not like them. Jeane's gaze swept the horizon, her mind racing with the implications of their discovery: an altar stone that wasn't made for prayer, but rather as an appetite, hungrier than any hunger she had ever known.