Round 7

As Silra's stick danced across the ground, tracing careful paths around the pressure plate's glow, Sister Hale watched with a mixture of wariness and calculation. The air was heavy with ash and the stench of rot, and Jeane stood poised to counter any unexpected reaction from the ancient mechanism. With each deliberate mark – quick scratches or small stones placed with precision – Silra sought to uncover hidden patterns in the dust, her eyes scanning for subtle breaks where foot traffic had disturbed the surface more than the wind alone could explain.

Jeane's gaze flicked between Silra and the pressure plate, her hand drifting toward components for a counter-spell as she murmured, "Mark it clear." The words were low and urgent, laced with a quiet intensity that commanded attention. Sister Hale's eyes narrowed, her expression a mask of focused calculation, as she weighed the risks and benefits of proceeding.