Round 37

Deep within the ash-choked road outside Gravehill's ruined city, the storm-dark sky hung heavy with foreboding. The air was alive with the scent of old dust and something else - a faintly metallic tang that made Sister Hale shiver. As she peered into the darkness, her eyes adjusted slowly to the gloom, revealing the faint outline of a narrow corridor stretching into the depths below.

"Maybe we should start a historical tour group instead of nearly falling down this hole," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the mist swirling around them. The ground beneath their feet seemed to shudder in response, and Silra's hand instinctively went to the hilt of her shard. "This isn't history moving," she said, her teal eyes narrowing as she studied the glowing symbol on the wall. "This is something alive down here, using the city as a piñata."

The mist swirled around them, as if it's being stirred by an unseen force. The air grew colder, and Hale could feel a gentle hum emanating from the symbol etched into the wall. She reached out a hand, her fingers tracing the etching as she examined it more closely. Silra took another step forward, her gaze fixed on the wall ahead.

"That's not history moving—someone just flipped a switch," Silra said, her voice low and urgent. "This is deliberate, and I'm willing to bet Gravedigger Renn knew exactly what he was sending us toward." The ground shuddered beneath their feet once more, and Hale's hand tightened around her unholy symbol.

The mist didn't seem natural either, too cold, too thick, too... purposeful. Hale approached the glowing symbol slowly, her fingers tracing the air near the pulsating mark without touching it. "That gravedigger's words were clearer than I wanted them to be—'follow the moving history,'" she said, her eyes locked on Silra. The mist coils around her ankles like cold smoke, and Silra's pointed ears twitched as she listened for movement in the corridor ahead.