Round 74

As the ground thrummed beneath her feet, Silra's silver-blonde hair seemed to glow in the flickering light of the runes. She moved with a precision that bordered on artistry, her teal eyes fixed intently on the glowing symbols as she crossed plate after plate with Sister Hale by her side. The human cleric's practical habit was a stark contrast to the eerie glow surrounding them, yet she moved with a quiet confidence born of duty and experience.

Sister Hale's steady eyes never left Gravedigger Renn's contorted face, her expression a mask of caution as she struggled to maintain her footing on the shifting ground. The air was thick with the scent of fear, Gravedigger Renn's terror-smell contaminating everything like spoiled wine spilled across stone floors. Sister Hale's voice was low and steady, a counterpoint to Silra's growing unease. "I won't give whoever designed this ancient horror more panic to feed on by breaking formation while you cross with surgical timing," she said, her words a testament to the discipline that kept them moving forward.

As they crossed plate after plate, the runes pulsed ominously in sync with each vibration, feeding greedily on Gravedigger Renn's panic like something ancient tasting weakness itself. The ground trembled beneath their feet, the sound of THRUM-THRUM-THUD echoing through the tunnel like a heartbeat. Silra felt her anxiety growing, the weight of their decision hanging precariously in the balance.