Round 9

As the violet light pulsed brighter, Seraphine's eyes narrowed, her sharp gaze drinking in the tower's crumbling stones. The air thickened with an unnatural heaviness, weighing on her like a physical force. She could feel the wrongness of this place seeping into her skin, a twisted magical presence that seemed to be burrowing into her very soul. Jeane's warning echoed in her mind: "I see the mist coiling like snakes around those bone remnants—the undead are reforming into something new and terrible beneath us."

The gate began to close, its motion eerily synchronized with the screeching from below. Seraphine's hand tightened on her crossbow, her fingers instinctively seeking the familiar weight of the bolts. She knew they had to act quickly, before the mist drew closer and the undead twisted configuration became a deadly trap. The violet light pulsed brighter still, casting an otherworldly glow over the scene as Seraphine steeled herself for what was to come.