Round 26 Transcript

The tension in The base of a crumbling stone tower tightens for a beat as the interruption refuses to go away. Everyone is forced to stay quiet and choose their next move carefully.

I keep my eyes fixed on the spirit, my hand resting on the pommel of my mace. Halie's trying to talk sense into it, but I've got my doubts about how much good that'll do. Merrin's right—we need to be ready for anything. "Alright," I say, stepping forward, "let's see what this test of worthiness entails before we go running off after some strange light." My gaze flicks to Elric, the old hermit who seems to know more than he's letting on.

I tap along the catwalk with my mace, each ring of metal against stone sending a jolt up my arm. It's solid—no give or hidden mechanisms that I can feel at least. But that doesn't mean it's safe. "We'll check this path thoroughly first," I say, my voice firm, "make sure there aren't any traps waiting to snatch us up. Merrin, Varrika—keep watch while we work." My eyes scan the walls and shadows, looking for any sign of movement or danger.

As I move, I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched—by more than just this spirit and its twisted magic. "Something feels wrong here," I murmur, more to myself than anyone else, "like we're walking into a trap we can't even see yet." But there's no going back—not now. Not after coming this far.

So we push forward, one careful step at a time, trying to outsmart whatever ancient evils might be lying in wait.

Jeane taps along the catwalk again, her movements precise and deliberate. The stone underfoot feels solid enough, but that doesn't mean it's safe. "This place is older than sin," she mutters, "and probably just as trustworthy." Her crimson eyes flick to Halie, then to Merrin. "We're not blindly following some spirit's invitation into who-knows-what. If there's a test, fine—we face it together and on our terms. But first we make sure this path is even worth taking."

She crouches down, running her fingers along the stone with an almost reverent touch. There are sigils here, old magic etched into the very foundation—traces of whoever built this place centuries ago. "There's a pattern to this," she says, "some kind of ward work. Could be protective... or could be triggering." She stands, dusting off her hands. "Merrin, you're our eyes and ears. Check that light source—what is it exactly? Torch? Will-o'-the-wisp? Something worse?"

To Varrika she nods approvingly. "Good thinking, checking the path first. But we need more than just solid stone underfoot." She reaches into her coat and pulls out a small pouch of what looks like crushed bone dust and powdered herbs. "I'm going to cast a spell that'll show any residual magic in this area—traps, triggers, anything unnatural." Her expression darkens as she sprinkles the mixture along the edge of the catwalk. "Stay back. If something goes wrong, I don't want you caught up in whatever happens."

The dust begins to swirl and glow with an eerie green light, tracing patterns in the air that only Jeane seems able to see clearly. "Ah—there," she says, her voice tight. "Three points of convergence. Could be pressure plates or... something more complicated." She traces the pattern with her finger in the air, eyes narrowed. "We need to step carefully between those points. Even a slight misstep could trigger whatever's waiting."

Jeane turns back to the group, her wings twitching with barely contained impatience. "Halie," she says, "I appreciate you trying to talk sense into that thing, but we can't trust it yet." Her gaze is sharp, appraising. "What exactly did it say? Any hints about this test of worthiness?"