Round 5

Under the flickering light of their lanterns, Jeane's eyes narrowed as she took in the scene before them - the ruined church facade, its stones worn by time and neglect. Silra crouched low against the wall, her fingers tracing old mortar lines with a practiced ease that belied the tension in her shoulders. Sister Hale stood watchfully between them, her hand raised in warning, steel etched into her voice despite the weariness that clung to every word like ash. The air was heavy with the scent of decay and smoke, and Jeane's crimson eyes seemed to drink it in, her gaze lingering on each face before focusing on the church doors ahead.