Round 10 Transcript

The hot vapor sears the remaining fibers of the rope, causing a sudden fraying that snaps the lower half free. The torn section drops into the shallow pit, revealing a shallow cavity beneath the stone that glows faintly with a blue‑ish light.

I step between Silra's blade and Gravedigger Renn, my unholy symbol held out as a shield. Stop. He's no use dead—at least not until we know what he knows for certain. The blue light from the pit pulses like a heartbeat beneath us. I kneel to examine it more closely despite the heat. This is old work, deeper than any recent sabotage. Someone reactivated an existing trap. I dip my finger into the oily substance still clinging to the stone edge and bring it up for inspection in the lantern light.

This isn't crude oil or even pitch—it's too slick, almost alive. I've seen something like this before, in the lower crypts of Gravehill where the old rituals were performed. My voice is low. Renn said the city was built on a foundation of sin and power accumulation. What if that wasn't just metaphor? I turn to face him directly for the first time since we found this mess. Tell me everything you know about the old temples under Gravehill, right now, before I lose what little patience I have left with your cryptic warnings.

I step toward the edge where the rope snapped, ignoring the heat licking at my boots. Gravedigger Renn—you will speak plainly before this light pulses again. My gaze finds him crouched near a rock like a frightened rabbit.

This trap was set recently—the oil is still fresh, the metal not yet fully corroded by the ash. City guard patrols you said? At dawn and dusk? I pull out my unholy symbol, letting its twisted design catch the lantern light. You're either very brave or very foolish to lead us into a murder trap without warning—so which is it? Without waiting for an answer, I turn back to the glowing chasm. The blue light pulses rhythmically now, almost hypnotic. Sister Hale—get Renn away from this edge. His usefulness is at its end if we can't trust his information. I draw a small circle in the air with my free hand, murmuring an incantation. A thread of shadow unspools from my fingertips, extending toward the glowing cavity below.

If there's a deeper chamber down there—if this isn't just some half-assed attempt at murder—I want to know what it is before we risk crossing.