Round 6

As Sister Hale marked an irregular patch in the road's surface, her eyes locked onto the spot with a practiced intensity. The stormy sky above seemed to darken, as if echoing the desperation that drove her forward. Silra moved ahead to the crumbling watchtower, her steps light and deliberate, scanning the streets for movement or signs of life. Her gaze was cold and analytical, sweeping over the ruins like a predator sizing up territory.

Jeane approached, her eyes drawn to the spot where Sister Hale had marked the irregular patch. The sorceress raised her hands, unholy symbol in hand, and called out to her companions, 'Sister Hale—what did you find?' Her voice was cool and measured, but a hint of curiosity crept into the tone.

Silra crouched low behind the half-broken watchtower, eyes flicking over the ash-choked streets. A faint glow peeks from beneath a cracked paving stone, revealing a narrow, damp tunnel that curls into the earth below. She signals for Jeane to maintain her detection spell as she moves closer, dagger drawn to pry up the stone carefully. 'Something's down there,' she mutters, words barely audible over the wind.