Round 3

Amidst the ash-choked darkness, Jeane's crimson eyes gleamed with focused intent as she began to weave a ritual incantation, her black horns twitching in time with the pulsating energy of the magical seal. The air vibrated with anticipation, the soft malevolent hum growing louder as she channeled arcane power through the intricate patterns etched into the stone. Silra's teal eyes narrowed, her pointed ears perked up with attention, as she scrutinized the north-facing stonework for any signs of structural weakness, her practical leathers creaking softly in the faint breeze. Sister Hale stood watch at the nave entrance, her steady gaze sweeping the road for any sign of movement, her silver holy symbol a beacon of hope in the forsaken place.