Round 12

As the huddled figure stepped forward, its fluid movements seemed almost predatory, as if it had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The air inside the church vibrated with anticipation, the hammering at the front doors intensifying as the rumbling from beneath the road shifted to multiple distinct movements converging on their position from behind. Sister Hale's eyes remained fixed on the figure, her gaze unwavering as she considered the wrongness of the ritual torch pattern inside.

Jeane stepped closer to the window opening, her crimson aura flaring visibly as she extended her arcane senses into the church's interior. "The power signature is unmistakable," she said, her voice steady despite the corruption trying to cling to her skin as she maintained control through arcane discipline. The dark shape in the window frame leaned forward slightly, its glowing eyes fixed on the group with predatory calculation.

Silra's teal eyes darted between the interior and the figure, her fingers tracing the dagger hilts at her belt as she analyzed the ritual space. "The trap markers are getting more obvious by the second," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the din of hammering and rumbling. The huddled figure held out the small, ornate box adorned with strange symbols, its posture eerily fluid and deliberate.