Round 8

The tower's ancient magic pulsed through the stone, awakening something slumbering deep within its walls. The air grew thick with malevolence as shadows coalesced into a writhing mass at the far end of the corridor. Halie stumbled backward, her holy symbol clutched tightly in both hands, the silver surface beginning to glow with an unearthly light that pushed back against the encroaching darkness.

"Stay close!" she called out, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her veins. The entity lunged forward, tendrils of pure shadow reaching for them, but Halie's mace swung in a wide arc, clearing the corridor and buying them precious seconds to react.

Merrin's hand instinctively went for her crossbow, but something held her back—a nagging feeling that this creature was more than just another undead horror. Her rogue instincts screamed at her to attack, but years of experience had taught her when to trust her gut. This thing... it felt wrong in a way no ordinary monster did.

Jeane raised her hand, arcane energies swirling around her fingertips, but she didn't yet cast a spell. That's no ordinary shadow—this tower is alive in some way. The magic in that darkness... it feels ancient and purposeful. Her crimson eyes narrowed as she studied the writhing entity, clearly weighing her options carefully.

Halie's unshakeable faith was impressive, but also concerning; Merrin's rogue instincts might be what they needed most right now. Careful, Halie—we don't know what we're dealing with here.