Round 3

Under the tempestuous sky, Sister Hale's voice rose to calm the situation, her words laced with the weight of her duties. "We mean no disrespect to your office or this city's memory—we are here on sacred business." As she spoke, she subtly positioned herself between the guard and Silra, her eyes fixed on the man before her. The gravedigger's gaze remained wary, his shoulders still tensed from the sudden threat.

Jeane's hands rose in a gesture of placation, her eyes remaining cold despite the soothing tone. "Gentlemen! We are but humble pilgrims seeking to restore this city's heart." A shimmering heat-haze appeared around her hands, an illusion of harmless steam rising from nowhere. The guard halted mid-shout, his gaze fixed on Jeane with sudden confusion.

Silra moved swiftly along the road's edge, putting distance between herself and the spike-trap area. Her boots scuffed softly in the ash as she observed the guard's stance and posture – he was tensed for violence but distracted by Jeane's illusion. The man's balance was compromised, his weapon grip slightly off as he leaned toward the shimmering heat-haze.

The city guard's shout snapped the silence, and a concealed spike trap erupted in the ash-slick road, hurling a spray of hot ash toward Silra. She stumbled back, her foot searing on the scorching surface, leaving her vulnerable to any sudden movement.