Round 3

As Sister Hale's hand tightens around her unholy symbol, Jeane can almost feel the weight of responsibility settling onto her shoulders. The air inside feels thick—old magic clings like cobwebs Jeane can nearly see if she squints just right. Silra circles the church's perimeter with calculated precision, her fingers trailing over weathered stonework searching for hidden mechanisms or weak points. Sister Hale's concern is palpable, and Jeane finds herself responding to it on a deep level, a sense of protectiveness stirring within her.

The ground beneath them trembles again—not a quake but something deliberate and large shifting its weight below. "Alright then," Sister Hale says, meeting Silra's gaze, "Let's get moving. We'll use the service door to enter and try to avoid drawing attention from the city guard." She glances at Jeane, her expression resolute. The rusted key from a dead magistrate hangs around Jeane's neck, a tangible reminder of the risks they're about to take.

As they prepare to enter, Silra finishes her report, detailing the complex lock mechanism and the rhythmic tremors beneath their feet. Sister Hale pauses, considering their options, before nodding towards the service door. "We'll use the key," she says, producing it from her belt. "It's our best chance at avoiding detection."