Round 94

The market district's storm-dark sky seemed to grow even darker as the ground heaved and buckled beneath Silra's feet, the sound of grinding stone and tearing metal echoing through the air in a chaotic crescendo. The runes' pulse had faded, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the distant rumble of collapsing structures. Sister Hale stood beside her, her eyes scanning the scene with a mix of wariness and determination, the silver holy symbol clutched tightly in her hand.

As they sprinted across the market district, dodging panicked vendors and civilians fleeing in all directions, Silra spoke up without breaking stride, her voice laced with conviction. "It wasn't testing us for purity—it was measuring Intent through those plates." The runes had pulsed with agreement when they offered respect, and now she understood why: whatever was buried beneath them wasn't some mindless horror under the ground; it was deliberate, probably been here since before Gravehill even existed. Sister Hale's voice cut in quickly across their channel, her words a breath of reassurance. "Silra—you're right." The pressure beneath them had changed, and she felt it too when Gravedigger collapsed – whatever was listening had decided they were no longer worthy.