Round 35

The stones beneath Halie’s fingertips pulsed with a rhythm that felt less alive than diseased, each beat sending a fresh wave of wrongness crawling up her arms. The vision that exploded behind her eyes was stark and immediate—a desolate plain where skeletal warriors marched in endless ranks, their eye sockets filled with absolute blackness. The voice that followed the image wasn’t just inside her head; it seemed to come from the stones themselves, resonating through her bones.

Varrika moved closer, her battle-hardened face etched with concern as she watched Halie’s reaction. She was no stranger to dark magic, but this felt different—older, more fundamental in its corruption. When the vision faded, leaving only the cryptic message about facing their own darkness etched into the stone, Varrika found herself leaning in for a closer look. Her fingers hovered just above the runes, not quite touching.

Jeane stepped forward next, her dark wings folding neatly against her back as she examined the glowing symbol on the ground. "Careful now," she said, her voice low and serious. "There’s something ancient about this magic, something that feels wrong even to my senses." She traced one of the complex runes with a slender finger, her crimson eyes narrowed in concentration. "I don't like the sound of facing our own darkness—self-knowledge has its limits, and I suspect this trap is designed to exploit them."

The weight of the moral dilemma settled heavier now, pressing down on each member of the group. The magic thrumming through the stones seemed to feed off their uncertainty, growing stronger with each passing moment of indecision.