Round 8

As the violet glow of the gate's magic fades, the skeletal guardian's skull tilts slightly, its empty eye sockets fixed on Jeane with an unnerving intensity. The air around it crackles with energy, and the ground shudders beneath its feet as it takes a step forward, its bony hand extended towards her. Merrin's nimble fingers dance through her lockpick set, examining the gate's magical wards with a practiced eye. "Well, well, ain't this a pretty pickle we're in," she mutters, shaking her head at Halie and Jeane. With a deft motion, she extends the pick, probing the intricate mechanisms.

Jeane circles the skeletal guardian slowly, maintaining distance but observing every detail. Her fingers trace the runes etched into the gate's surface, feeling the dark energy pulsing beneath. Halie's caution is noted, but this isn't their fears made manifest – it's a trap component, an automated response to magical probing. As Jeane examines the runes, her crimson eyes narrow, her mind racing with strategies. The sound of scraping metal echoes from the corridor ahead, followed by the faint whisper of shadow, growing louder with each passing moment.