Round 34

As Silra stepped onto solid ground on this side of the chasm, her grappling hook held firm, and she carefully made her way across. Sister Hale covered them from above, her symbol still pulsing with a slow, steady warning. The mist swirls around Silra, its unnatural patterns seeming to writhe like living tendrils. The air is thick with the stench of decay and corruption.

Silra moved forward, feeling her way through the thick mist, noting how it clung to her, respecting that she couldn't see more than a few feet ahead. She calculated that this mist wasn't natural, testing her shard again – still no magical signature in the air. Maintaining suspicion about what was creating this, Silra felt her breathing stay steady, not panicking yet. The ground here felt unstable beneath her feet.

Sister Hale moved carefully toward the edge of their side, testing ground before full weight. "Silra, wait," she spoke low, her voice barely audible over the sound of the mist. From up high, the mist was thick even without Silra's presence, and it seemed to cling to the fabric of her habit like cold fingers. Hale's symbol continued to pulse with a slow rhythm, as if the stone beneath them was breathing in time with the symbol's beat.