Round 73

The central rune pulsed again, its sickly green light casting grotesque shadows across the stone walls of the descending staircase. Jeane hovered at the top, her dark wings half-spread as if ready to take flight or shield herself from whatever malevolence seeped up from below. The air itself felt wrong—thick with ancient death magic that made her skin crawl and her feathers ache. "Stop," she said, her voice cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. "Merrin is dying down there. We can't let her—" Varrika stepped forward, mace ready, her dwarf's face etched with grim determination despite the fatigue that weighted every muscle. The narrow stone stairs descended into darkness, swallowed by shadows that seemed to devour the faint torchlight. The magic here was wrong—wrong in a way that made her teeth ache and her gut twist.

Varrika's gaze fixed on the pulsing rune, its light growing brighter with each passing moment—feeding on their presence, perhaps? The tower groaned around them, the sound of ancient stone complaining under strain that had been building since they entered. Merrin lay at the bottom of the stairs, her body convulsing in slow, unnatural spasms, eyes frozen in a permanent stare. The curse was spreading faster now, consuming her from within. "We need a plan," Halie gasped from behind them, her eyes watering as she struggled against the poisonous fumes that seeped through cracks in the stonework.

Varrika's jaw tightened. A plan? What kind of plan could they possibly have against magic like this? The rune pulsed again, its light growing brighter still—feeding on their desperation, perhaps? She could feel it pulling at something inside her, something ancient and hungry. But Merrin was dying. They had to retrieve the sword, had to break the curse before it consumed them all. And time was running out.

The stone beneath her feet felt warm, almost fever-hot—was the magic seeping through? Or was the tower itself burning from within, collapsing around them? Either way, standing here doing nothing wasn't an option. Varrika took another step down the stairs, her boots echoing ominously in the oppressive silence. The central rune pulsed once more, its light now bright enough to cast flickering shadows across the walls of the descending passage—feeding on their presence, perhaps?