Round 24

Halie froze at the bottom of the stairs, her torch held out in front of her like a shield against the oppressive darkness. The air was thick with dust and the stench of decay, making it difficult to breathe. Each sound seemed amplified—the scrape of bone on stone echoing through the chamber, the distant rumble of shifting rubble, the heavy beat of wings above.

She craned her neck upward, squinting against the gloom. There—Jeane hovered near a gaping hole in the ceiling, her dark leathery wings beating steadily to maintain her position. The succubus's crimson eyes gleamed as they locked onto something below.

Seraphine stood beside Halie, her fingers tracing patterns over an intricate stone door covered in writhing runes. The elf woman's expression was one of intense concentration—brows furrowed, lips moving silently as she poured arcane energy into the barrier. But something was wrong; the magic pulsed erratically, drawing on itself rather than maintaining its intended purpose.

We need to move, Halie hissed, her gaze darting between Jeane above and Seraphine's failing spellwork. This whole damn tower is coming down around us.