Round 9

As Sister Hale's words hung in the air, Jeane's gaze never wavered from the ground, her fingers tracing the faint outline of a fourth footprint amidst the ash. The air inside the ruined church still reeked of dust and an ancient malevolence that seemed to seep from the very stones themselves. Silra watched with a practiced eye, her grey gaze darting between Jeane's tense posture and Sister Hale's resolute expression before settling on the service entrance she had discovered earlier.

Sister Hale's voice carried an authority born of duty and compassion, her eyes locking onto each woman in turn as if searching for hidden truths. "We are not here for phantoms," she said, her words a gentle rebuke to Jeane's bravado and Silra's pragmatic skepticism. The wind moaned through the broken windows, but Sister Hale's voice remained steady, a beacon of calm amidst the storm-dark sky that loomed above them.