Round 8

The gate groans open under Merrin’s steady hands, revealing a corridor of shadows beyond. The air that spills out is cold and ancient, carrying the scent of stone dust and decay. Seraphine steps back instinctively, her eyes fixed on the pulsating runes that now seem to writhe with renewed energy. "Wait," she hisses, but Merrin is already moving forward, her quick steps betraying no fear.

Jeane hovers near the entrance, her dark wings half-spread for balance. The sorcerer’s crimson eyes narrow as she studies the shifting symbols. "Those runes are active," she warns, voice low. "They’re drawing power from something deeper inside." She pulls a crystal focus from her robes, the gem catching what little light remains and throwing off faint reflections.

Merrin pauses at the threshold, her hand still on the rough stone of the doorframe. She glances back at Seraphine, then at Jeane. "The lock’s open," she says simply, as if that justifies stepping into a corridor that obviously wants to stay sealed. Her fingers twitch, ready for action or retreat—whichever proves necessary.

Seraphine steps forward, her boots crunching on loose stone. She raises the crystal, letting its faint glow illuminate the first few feet of corridor. "We need more light," she mutters, already reaching for a spell component tucked into her belt. The air feels wrong here, thick with residual magic that makes her skin crawl. But Merrin’s already halfway inside, and Jeane shows no signs of backing down.

The corridor stretches ahead, disappearing into darkness beyond the reach of their meager light sources. More runes line the walls here, though these are less active, merely carved deep into the stone. The sound of shifting stone echoes from somewhere deeper within—the skeletons stirring perhaps, or something older and more dangerous still.

Jeane moves to Seraphine’s side, her wings brushing against the narrow corridor walls. "I’ll take point," she offers, voice barely audible. "Less likely to trigger anything with my magic than you two." She raises the crystal focus higher, its glow casting long shadows that dance macabrely on the ancient stone.

Merrin nods once, stepping back to let Seraphine and Jeane lead. Her hand rests casually on her crossbow, ready for whatever might emerge from the depths. The corridor stretches before them, a yawning mouth into darkness and history both.