Round 16

As Silra crouched low, her teal eyes fixed intently on the ground, Jeane's voice was a hushed whisper, her power coursing through the air like a dark current. "Something is definitely moving under our feet," she murmured to her companions, her crimson eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Sister Hale stood watchfully at the edge of the ruins, her hand resting on the haft of her mace, her steady gaze locked on the rubble-strewn street leading to Gravehill's gates.

Silra produced the rusted iron key from her belt, holding it up casually between two fingers as if it were a common thing. "Gentlemen," she said with an air of authority, her voice carrying the weight of expectation. The approaching guards halted, their eyes flicking to Silra before returning to Jeane, who was already preparing a spell to detect hidden magic or movement beneath the altar. Sister Hale's voice cut through the tension, measured and cautious as she asked Silra about the movement she had heard, her eyes never leaving the street where the city guard might emerge at any moment.