Round 9 Transcript

As Merrin steps through the newly opened gate, her eyes scan the dimly lit chamber beyond, taking in the intricate carvings on the stone walls. The air is heavy with the scent of age and decay. A faint hum, like the quiet buzzing of a thousand bees, emanates from the walls, casting an eerie glow over the space. The room appears to be some sort of grand foyer, with a sweeping staircase curving up to the left and a doorway to the right, partially hidden by a tattered tapestry. The walls are adorned with cobweb-shrouded portraits, their subjects' eyes seeming to follow Merrin's every move. The floor, polished to a high sheen, reflects the faint blue light cast by the runes, making it seem as though the very stones are glowing with an otherworldly energy. Merrin's gaze is drawn to the staircase, where a figure stands waiting, shrouded in shadows.

I take a step through the gate, my heavy mace gripped tight in my calloused hands. The air here feels wrong, heavy with magic I don't understand. My eyes scan the chamber, taking in the sweep of the staircase, the hidden doorway behind the tapestry. Anything could be a threat in this place. "Alright, listen up," I growl, turning to face my companions. "We move slow and we move careful. Merrin, you're on point for traps. Jeane, keep those runes in sight—we don't need any nasty surprises. Halie, you watch our backs." I meet each of their eyes in turn, my own hard as flint. "This tower's already tried to kill us once. Let's not give it a second chance."

I step forward, my boots heavy on the polished stone. The air hums with power, raising the hairs on my arms. But I don't let it spook me. I've faced worse than ancient magic in these woods. And with my sisters at my back, I'll face worse still. We move into the chamber, ready for whatever lies ahead. But one thing's certain—this tower won't see us turn back. Not until we have what we came for.

I step through the gate last, my leather wings half-extended for balance on the slick stone floor. The pattern... fascinating. My eyes trace the runes, reading their ancient script like a poet deciphers music. This isn't merely locking—the magic is binding something inside. Three distinct layers of ward, each responding to the others in a feedback loop designed to amplify destructive force. I tap my lip thoughtfully. If we brute-force it with arcane power, we risk collapsing the entire tower on our heads. To Merrin: Your thief's skills might be more useful here than brute strength or divine protection. The key is somewhere inside this pattern itself—buried deep in the sigils' structure. I kneel beside her, my fingers moving over the cool stone, tracing connections invisible to mortal eyes. Help me follow these lines. If we break the sequence at point Gamma, it should open a pathway without triggering the main wards. To Varrika: Stand ready with that mace. Something woke up when Merrin touched those runes—the tower's got ears now. My own power hums beneath my skin, demonic and ancient, matching the building's low thrum. First sign of movement, I'll shield us long enough for everyone to fall back through the gate. I commit my full concentration to the pattern, lines of force visible only to me spreading across the stone like constellations. See that spiral there? Follow it counterclockwise until you reach the star with three points... Yes. Now trace the line perpendicular from its center... The air grows heavier as I work, arcane pressure building at my temples. Hurry—whatever guards this place is coming, and I don't think my wings will be enough to get us all out if it's something truly ancient. I hold my hand over the rune I've identified as point Gamma, ready to channel a precise, controlled burst of power that won't set off the cascade. On three. One... Two... My eyes flick up once more, checking that everyone is in position, then back down at the stone. Three. I release a focused beam of arcane energy—a thread instead of a torrent—into the rune. The entire pattern flares once, brightly, and then one section dissolves into harmless dust.

The gateway groans open, revealing a corridor beyond. But something moves in the shadows behind us now—the sound of bone scraping stone. We have entry, but we don't have time to admire it.