Round 9

As Varrika stepped forward, her gravel-edged voice cut through the tension, her words a challenge to the shifting runes. She shoulderered her pack and hefted her mace, the worn wood smooth beneath her callused palm, her eyes fixed on the ancient gate. Merrin's head jerked towards the lock, his fingers already moving with practiced ease. Seraphine watched, her heart still hammering against her ribs, as Varrika's determination seemed to falter for a moment before resuming its steady beat. The air was heavy with anticipation, the very fabric of reality seeming to thicken with the promise of what lay beyond the threshold.