Round 86

As Jeane yanked Sister Hale back from the edge of the collapsing bridge, the cleric's hand instinctively tightened around the unholy symbol at her neck. The lantern's flame danced wildly, casting eerie shadows on the bridge's surface as Gravedigger Renn's eyes went wide with terror. "We need to move," Sister Hale called out firmly, but it was too late. The bridge creaked again, its wooden planks groaning under the weight of her next step.

Jeane's crimson eyes scanned the bridge structure, every creak telling a story that only she could decipher. With a practiced eye, she weighed the risks of forward momentum against their own timeline, her mind racing with the implications of the containment protocol itself. "Seventeen patterns of tactical precision orchestrating this containment—the timing is surgical, not desperate," she said, her voice low and measured as she assessed the situation.

As they stood frozen in alarm, Gravedigger Renn's frightened informant stumbled backward, their eyes fixed on the bridge with a mix of fear and desperation. The air grew colder still, heavy with the weight of ancient corruption operating in three dimensions across multiple rounds. Whatever pursued tracks Silra's movements with predator-like efficiency remained a mystery, but Jeane's arcane sight probed deeper, seeking answers beyond what mundane eyes could see.