Round 17 Transcript

We … .. … magical … … … … … i … … .. … ‑ … … … e……………………………………………………………………… … …………………………… … ?

I feel it again—the tremor, low and rhythmic under my boots—and I don't hesitate. Detect Magic is subtle if cast right; I shape the spell in my mind like breathing, focusing on the ground below us. The air around me shifts faintly as the magic leaves me, seeping downwards through stone and earth, searching for patterns that shouldn't be there. The spell's cool tendrils find something—multiple somethings, moving together in a coordinated pattern beneath our feet, too organized to be rockslide or animal den—they're… digging up, converging on this spot. My expression doesn't change but my stomach tightens.

The stone is cool against my cheek as I press close to listen, filtering out the rain and wind. There—definitely movement, low-frequency, maybe multiple points. It's not random; there's a pattern, almost like... digging. I signal Sister Hale back with two fingers, the sign we agreed means 'stay silent, don't move.'

Sister Hale draws her mace in one fluid motion and turns slowly, scanning every rooftop silhouette against the storm-gray sky. Her grip is firm but relaxed—ready to strike if necessary without telegraphing aggression. "I see them," she hums to the others, voice barely audible over the rain. "The city guard on that roof across from us—three figures, watching."