Round 54

Seraphine’s eyes narrowed as she examined the creature, her hand still hovering over her ritual components. “It appears to be a Liminal Wretch,” she said, her voice low and precise. “A creature born from the dark magic that permeates this tower. Its presence is tied to the wards and traps that protect the tower’s secrets.” She paused, her gaze flicking to Jeane. “The Liminal Wretch is a test of faith, designed to weed out those who would desecrate the ancient artifacts within.” The creature took a step forward, its movements jerky and unnatural.

Varrika tightened her grip on her crossbow, keeping it trained on the creature as she listened to Seraphine’s analysis. A liminal wretch… a test of faith. The words sent a chill down her spine, but she didn’t let it show on her face. “Understood,” she muttered gruffly. “But we can’t just stand here and wait for it to decide whether we pass or fail.” Her eyes darted to Merrin, noting the fear and determination in her gaze. “Merrin, stay behind me. Halie, keep your holy symbol ready—we may need that divine protection.”

Jeane’s crimson eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable as she considered Seraphine’s words about the Liminal Wretch being a test of faith designed to weed out those who would desecrate ancient artifacts within the tower. The creature before them hadn’t moved since its appearance—an eerie stillness that felt almost deliberate, as if waiting for something. The sorceress’ wings shifted restlessly behind her back, the movement revealing glimpses of the intricate black and crimson sigils etched into their leathery surfaces.

Seraphine watched Jeane’s arcane preparations with a mixture of awe and trepidation, her own fingers twitching at her side as she fought the urge to reach for her ritual components. Her spell crackled with an energy that felt both familiar and terrifyingly alien—a raw power that seemed to resonate deep within the bones of this accursed place. “Wait,” she called out, her voice a strained whisper, though it cut through the tense air like a knife. Her gaze darted between Jeane’s focused form and the Liminal Wretch.