Round 9

As Silra crouched low at the church entrance, her fingers trailing along the cold stone, she pondered the deliberate boot prints leading to this spot. Those tracks were not mere coincidence; someone had deliberately left them, perhaps to mislead or to conceal a truth. The rusted iron door stood half-open, an invitation that felt suspiciously welcoming, especially under the ominous stormy sky. The wind howled through the cracks in the ancient stonework, its mournful wail echoing off the ruins of Gravehill's skeletal remains.

Jeane moved forward with a predator's stealth, her eyes scanning every shadow around the crumbling church, her gaze lingering on the dark symbols etched into the walls. Those boot prints were deliberate, a message left by someone who wanted them to believe this place was empty. She drew power from the unholy symbol at her throat, feeling the dark currents beneath Gravehill pulse in response.