Round 18

The air grows heavy with ancient malice as Halie recoils from the gate's response. Its symbols flare at her touch, pulsing with hunger; a low growl rumbles up through the earth. "Stop!" she cries out, clutching her cross in terror. Varrika backs away quickly, hand on mace hilt. "Halie!" The dwarf woman studies the symbols with narrowed eyes, warrior instincts screaming alarm. This magic feels wrong—ancient and malevolent, stirring primal fears deep within her dwarf nature. But there's no time to hesitate—the party needs leadership now. She turns to Jeane, voice urgent: "We must approach this carefully. That magic feels alive... and hungry." Across the room, Jeane watches with amusement mixed with irritation. Halie's panic is predictable, but the guardian here isn't just a mindless spirit—it's intelligent, calculating, capable of manipulation. A slow smile spreads across her face as an idea forms: perhaps they don't need to force their way through after all...