Round 7

As Sister Hale pressed her palm flat against the stone floor, a palpable hunger coursed through her, echoing Silra's unspoken fears. The air was heavy with an otherworldly energy, as if the very fabric of the church had been woven to conceal some ancient evil. The lantern's light cast weak shadows on the walls, revealing deliberate cracks that seemed more like the work of a master craftsman than natural wear.

Sister Hale moved toward the spiral staircase with purpose, her gaze sweeping across Silra and the chasm below, where something stirred in the depths. "We take the bell tower," she said, her voice firm despite the weight of exhaustion. "Secure high ground before whatever's beneath decides we're a convenient meal on our way down to visit." The storm-dark sky seemed to press in around them, as if the night itself was watching their every move.