Round 7

As Jeane's lantern cast flickering shadows on the sewer walls, Silra carefully lowered a length of rope down into the darkness below, its taut fibers humming with tension. The rhythmic thrumming had quickened, and Silra's eyes narrowed as she watched the rope dance in the lantern light. "If this thing is mechanical," she muttered, testing the rope's strength with a sharp yank, "we might be able to jam it somehow." Her gaze flicked toward Jeane, who stood poised on the steps above, her unholy symbol clutched tight in one hand as she paused, her crimson eyes fixed intently on the darkness below.