Round 46

As Arachne's gaze drifted to Hale, the cleric's eyes remained fixed on the stone-woman, her symbol pulsating with an air of quiet confidence. The stormy darkness seemed to press in around them, but Sister Hale stood firm, her posture a testament to her unyielding faith. Silra, meanwhile, watched Hale with a mixture of amusement and concern, her teal eyes flicking between the cleric's steady gaze and Arachne's enigmatic expression.

The stone-woman's voice cut through the silence, its husky timbre sending shivers down Hale's spine. "I am called Arachne," she said, her words dripping with an inner fire that seemed to sear the air around them. "And I will guide you to the heart of Gravehill, but only if you can answer a riddle." The weight of the challenge hung in the air like a gauntlet, and Hale's hand tightened on the hilt of her mace.

Silra's response was immediate, her mischievous glint a stark contrast to her deadpan tone. "A promise?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism. "From something made of stone?" The walls around them pulsed in time with Silra's words, their rhythm quickening like a drumbeat as she considered the riddle. Her gaze darted between Hale and Arachne, assessing both their postures before her own hand drifted towards her pack.

Sister Hale's warning was low and urgent, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her symbol. "Careful," she whispered to Silra, her eyes never leaving Arachne's face. The stone-woman's gaze lingered on Hale, its inner fire burning brighter with each passing moment, and Hale felt a shiver run down her spine despite her faith.