Round 7

As Silra's fingers danced across the ground, tracing the faint impressions left by unseen footsteps, Sister Hale's gaze followed her with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. The cleric's eyes, red-rimmed from fatigue, searched for any sign of recent occupation amidst the ruin. "Four sets?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the wind might carry their words to unwanted ears. Jeane's fingers brushed against the disturbed earth, her touch sending a shiver through the air, and she murmured a soft phrase, lost in thought. The flickering light of their lanterns cast eerie shadows on the stones, and for an instant, it seemed as though something lurked just beyond the edge of perception, watching them with cold calculation.