Round 21 Transcript

Halie's torch casts eerie shadows on the walls as she descends deeper into the tower, her eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. The air grows colder with each step, and she can't shake the feeling that they're being watched. Suddenly, the torch in her hand flickers, casting an otherworldly glow on the stone floor. The light reveals a series of ancient symbols etched into the wall, pulsing with a faint, malevolent energy. To her left, Halie notices a narrow corridor branching off into darkness, the air emanating from it heavy with the scent of decay. The right-hand path leads towards the massive set of ornate doors covered in inverse runes, which seem to be pulsing in time with Jeane's struggles upstairs.

I freeze at the bottom of the stairs, torch held out in front of me like a shield against the oppressive darkness. The air down here is different—cold and thick, like breathing underwater. Seraphine's right, I can feel it too: that slow, rhythmic pulsing beneath our feet. Like the heartbeat of something ancient and asleep.

The corridor to the left beckons with the promise of quick exploration, but the smell of decay coming from it makes my skin crawl. I've faced undead before, but whatever died down there has been dead a very long time—longer than this tower even existed. And if it's not just rot... well, ancient curses are exactly the kind of thing that would be waiting in a place like this.

My eyes drift to the ornate doors ahead. The runes on them pulse in time with whatever's wrong upstairs, feeding energy back into the tower's defenses. That's where the real threat is—Jeane's fighting something up there, and these doors are probably the source. But breaking through them without preparation could release whatever's been keeping this place sealed for centuries.

I turn to Seraphine, her silhouette flickering in the torchlight. "You go back up," I say softly. "Check on Jeane—if that rune fails, we're all buried here. Tell Merrin and Varrika what we found; they can handle a quick scout down here if needed." My grip tightens on the useless symbol in my pocket. "I'll check out the corridor. If it's just rot, I can cleanse it easily enough. If it's something worse... well, better one of us fall to a trap than all four."

She looks like she wants to argue, but the truth is plain: two of us down here isn't twice as safe. "I'm not asking for permission," I add with more conviction than I feel. "This is what I'm here for—holy symbols and blessings don't work right, but I can still handle undead. And someone needs to see what's beyond those doors."

Before she can respond, I turn toward the left corridor, torch raised high. The darkness ahead shifts and writhes like smoke in a breeze, and I take a deep breath. The stone under my feet pulses once more—the rhythm unbroken. Time to face whatever's waiting.

As I push off from the collapsing floor toward where Halie's silhouette last appeared above, the inverse rune pulses erratically, tendrils of corrupt energy snapping at my heels like angry snakes. Each beat of its unstable rhythm makes control more difficult—I pour more power into holding it back, feeling my reserves dip dangerously low already. Too much strain, too many variables—if I lose focus now, we're all buried under ancient stone.*

I beat my wings once, hard, propelling myself upward through the dust-thick air toward where Halie and Seraphine descended earlier. The holding pattern for the rune fractures again—I have to catch up before Merrin stumbles into whatever heart chamber is down there. If she and Varrika go in without me managing this properly... I need proximity—this kind of delicate work requires constant attention or it collapses.

Varrika's hammer crushes another skeleton below, the sound echoing through the dust-filled space. She hasn't moved from her position since I called out to her minutes ago—not an inch. Efficient as always, but also... isolated somehow. Quiet in a way that worries me.

The sound of Halie's footsteps descending into the depths fades, leaving only the groaning of ancient stone and the frantic pulse of the inverse rune under my feet. I beat my wings again, propelling myself higher, toward where Seraphine's voice had last echoed from above. The holding pattern for the rune wavers, and I have to pour even more power into it, feeling my magic reserves plummet with each passing moment.
I reach the landing where the stairs end, finding myself in a small, oppressive chamber with two dark corridors branching off into unknown darkness. One path leads further down, winding into what looks like an even deeper level of the tower. The other seems to lead towards a massive set of ornate doors, covered in the same inverse runes that I'm struggling to control upstairs. I can feel their energy pulsing through my bones, feeding back into the rune and making my job infinitely harder.
My eyes dart around the chamber, taking in every detail as I try to decide which way is safest. The air here is colder, heavier than it was even a few minutes ago. It feels thick with magic—ancient, malevolent magic that wants to swallow me whole. The runes on the door seem to writhe in the torchlight, almost alive, and I find myself leaning away from them instinctively.
I pull my robes tighter around myself, suddenly feeling vulnerable in this ancient, oppressive space. The pulse of the rune is getting stronger now, its rhythm erratic and unsettling. I need to get back upstairs before it overwhelms me completely or I lose control entirely and we're all buried under the tower's collapse.
I turn towards the stairs leading back up, my decision made. But then I hear a faint sound coming from one of the corridors—a soft, dragging noise like something heavy being pulled across stone. My heart hammers against my ribs as I freeze, listening intently. It stops for a moment, then begins again, slower this time.
A cold chill traces down my spine. That isn't Halie—she moved with purpose, not that slow, agonizing scrape. And Merrin and Varrika would have announced themselves by now if they were here.
I take a slow step back toward the stairs, my hand already raised to push off with a burst of arcane energy when a voice calls out from the darkness of the deeper corridor.
"Welcome home," it rasps, ancient and dry as old parchment. A figure emerges from the shadows—a wizened old man with long, gray hair and piercing eyes that seem to glow faintly in the dark. He wears simple robes, but the power that radiates from him is overwhelming, pressing down on me like a physical weight.
"I've been waiting for you," he continues, his voice a low murmur that seems to vibrate right through my chest. "Waiting for someone with your particular... talents."
He gestures towards the door, and suddenly I can feel the inverse runes screaming in my mind, their energy surging out of control. The holding pattern I've been maintaining crumbles instantly, and I stagger back, my vision blurring with the sheer force of it.
*The old man smiles, a cold, empty thing that doesn't reach his eyes. "You were trying to fix something that wasn't broken," he says, his tone almost gentle now. "But this tower... it has its own purpose. And you, my dear, are about to fulfill it."