Round 9

The gate swings open under Merrin’s hands, revealing a corridor of shadows that seems to swallow the meager torchlight whole. The air spills out cold and ancient, carrying the scent of stone dust and decay mixed with something else—something wrong. Seraphine steps back instinctively, her eyes fixed on the pulsating runes that now seem to writhe with renewed energy. "Wait," she hisses again, but Merrin is already moving forward, her quick steps betraying no fear.

Halie moves closer instead, reaching out to trace the dark symbols with careful fingers. The energy feels wrong—cold, hungry, ancient in a way that makes her skin crawl and her stomach turn. This is exactly why she’s here, exactly the kind of threat she was called to deal with. "Wait," she says sharply this time. "Let me examine these seals first." Her voice carries the authority of someone who knows what they’re doing, even if her heart pounds in her chest.

Merrin pauses at the threshold, her hand still on the rough stone of the doorframe. She glances back at Seraphine, then at Halie, and something flickers across her face—apprehension?. But it’s gone quickly, replaced by that familiar stubborn determination. "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 doesn’t move from her position near the gate’s entrance, her gaze fixed on those shifting symbols. She pulls a crystal focus from her robes, the gem catching what little light remains and throwing off faint reflections. "Those runes are active," she warns, voice low. "They’re drawing power from something deeper inside." She knows these patterns, has studied them in dusty tomes for years. But seeing them writhe before her eyes? That’s different. That’s terrifying.

Halie nods, already moving closer to examine the seals more thoroughly. Her fingers trace each symbol carefully, feeling the flow of energy, searching for weak points or triggers. She knows she should be praying, calling on her divine protection, but right now all she can do is focus on the task at hand. The magic here is dark and hungry, yes, but it’s not overwhelming yet. That doesn’t mean it won’t get worse.

Merrin shifts her weight, crossbow held ready in her hands. She can hear the distant clatter of bones behind the door now, the sound echoing up from deeper within the tower. The thought of facing those skeletal warriors fills her with dread, but she knows they must press on if they are to claim their prize. As Halie works on the seals, Merrin keeps her eyes moving, scanning for any sign of immediate threat. The corridor stretches out ahead, dark and forbidding, but the way forward is clear—for now.

Seraphine watches Halie work, her own hands clenching around the crystal focus. She knows she should be helping, casting a spell to disrupt the seals or at least providing illumination, but something holds her back. The magic here is too strong, too ancient. One wrong move could trigger something far worse than a few skeletons. Instead, she focuses on maintaining her own wards, reinforcing the protective spells she cast before they entered the woods.

The air grows heavy with tension as the three women stand at the threshold of the tower, each lost in their own thoughts and preparations. The gate groans softly behind them, as if reluctant to let them pass. But there’s no turning back now. The Time-Splitting Sword awaits, and they’ve come too far to give up.