Jeane

I am the road ahead stretches into grey rain, and I feel the weight of ancient stone waiting beyond the hill. Magic clings to this place like dust — fresh in some places, thick with old blood in others. My scrying showed no immediate danger at the entrance, which is either good luck or poor design on their part. Either way, we move forward only when prepared. I cast Protection from Evil and Good on us all; the spell forms a cool shimmer against my skin like armor. This will shield us from the common haunts that lurk in these forgotten places. It won't stop everything, of course — true power never does — but it's a sensible precaution. Sister Hale studies the wardwork on the church facade with her own eyes, and Silra with her thief's instincts. Whatever inverted this sanctuary into something else… I intend to find out who or what did it and make them regret the interruption. We are here for purpose, not to be waylaid by ghosts clinging to old stone. I draw on my infernal heritage — a gift and a curse wrapped in red eyes and cold command. I do not fear what's inside that church because fear is weakness, and we cannot afford weakness here. Silra, finish your search. Sister Hale, keep testing those wards for weaknesses. And when we're ready… I smile like a blade being tested by flame, we enter as masters, not supplicants.