Round 6

As they stood at the edge of the ash-choked road outside Gravehill's ruined church, Jeane's crimson eyes gleamed with an unyielding determination, her gaze fixed on the crumbling facade ahead. The flickering light of their lanterns cast eerie shadows on the stones, and 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 as she spoke, "Wait, I say, and there's steel in my voice despite the weariness clinging to every word like ash." Her eyes scanned the stonework, searching for any sign of recent work – repaired cracks, fresh mortar, anything that might suggest a trap or a guard posted inside.