Round 2

As Jeane led the way down the left path, her lantern casting eerie shadows on the ruined cityscape, Sister Hale trailed behind Gravedigger Renn, her gaze fixed on his huddled form with growing unease. The air reeked of decay and charred earth, heavy with the stench of Gravehill's downfall. Jeane's crimson eyes scanned the two forking paths as if searching for a hidden trap in every rock. She nodded to herself, her mind made up.

Silra crouched at the fork in the road, her fingers brushing ash from a half-buried stone marker. The storm overhead groaned like a waking beast, and lightning turned Gravehill's ruins into stark silhouettes against the sky—the perfect backdrop for every kind of trouble. "Listen," she said to Jeane and Sister Hale, voice low enough that the wind might carry it away before reaching Renn's ears. Her eyes darted between her companions, searching for any sign of agreement or dissent.

Sister Hale stepped forward, hand closing around the unholy symbol at her throat—a gesture less prayer than instinctive need to ground herself against the creeping dread that clung to Gravehill's ruins like a shroud. "Jeane," she said, voice low but carrying in the still air, "Silra—we cannot simply leave Renn there. The city guard will find him by morning, and we must ensure our silence remains intact." Her eyes met Jeane's, seeking reassurance that they shared her conviction.