Round 7

The gate swung open with a groan that sounded disturbingly like a dying man’s last breath, revealing a tunnel choked by darkness. The central rune pulsed again, its red light intensifying as if fed by their entry, casting grotesque shadows across the stone walls. A low moan, like wind through crypts or the weeping of the damned, filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. Merrin felt a chill settle into her bones that had nothing to do with the damp stone—this was old magic, dark and hungry.

Jeane unfolded her wings fully now, not for flight but as a deliberate display of power, a way to push back against the oppressive energy pressing in on them all. The air inside this accursed tunnel had thickened with malevolent intent—old magic and death mingling in a miasma she found increasingly difficult to breathe through. "Back away from that pit," she commanded, her crimson eyes fixed on the darkness beyond where Varrika had stumbled back from some unseen danger.

Merrin’s hands trembled as she fumbled with her lockpicks, the ancient runes on the gate seeming to pulse with an ominous red light. She could feel the malevolent energy emanating from the tower, making her skin crawl. "Stay sharp, everyone," she muttered under her breath, her voice shaking slightly. Taking a deep breath, Merrin finally managed to pick the lock and push open the heavy gate with a groan of rusted hinges. The tunnel beyond was dark and foreboding, the air thick with the stench of decay.

Halie stepped forward with her torch held high, letting its steady flame be their anchor in this shifting dark. They had to move together, stay close enough that they weren't isolated targets for whatever was down here. She saw Varrika's arcane energy flaring and Merrin's hands trembling—both signs of the fear she felt too but wouldn't let show. The air inside the tower was wrong—thick, sweet, and oppressive, like decay mixed with incense. Something ancient and malevolent was here, awake now because they'd opened the door.