Round 11

The air inside the tower was impossibly old—dust thick enough to taste, mixed with something else, something that made Merrin's skin crawl. The runes on the gate pulsed like a diseased heart, each beat sending out tendrils of dark energy that caressed her face before receding back into the stone. She could feel them probing at her mind, not quite breaking through but leaving a greasy residue behind.

"Stand back!" she called over her shoulder, already crouching down to examine the lock mechanism more closely. "I don't want anyone else getting... whatever this is all over them." Her tools—picks, a small hammer, a length of thin wire—felt inadequate against magic this powerful, but there was no turning back now. The ward's energy pulsed faster as she worked, and she had to fight the urge to vomit.

Jeane circled the ward's perimeter with her wings tucked in tight, every instinct screaming at her to flee. The dark magic bleeding off the stone felt alive, hungry, and she could feel it trying to latch onto her spirit like a physical thing. "Everyone, listen!" she said, voice strained. "This isn't just a trap—it's sentient. We need to map its trigger points if we're going to find a safe way through."

Varrika squinted into the darkness beyond the open gate, her grip tight on her mace. The air felt wrong, heavy with something that made her skin prickle and her teeth ache. She could hear the others whispering behind her, but she kept her focus forward, eyes scanning for any sign of movement in the shadows.

"Enough talk," she growled, more to herself than anyone else. "We're going in there whether we like it or not. But we do this smart." Her words were punctuated by a sudden tremor that ran through the stone underfoot—a warning rumble that made her heart skip a beat. The gate's runes pulsed faster now, and she could feel the magic reaching out, probing at their presence.

"Right then," she muttered, shifting her stance to better balance against the shaking ground. "Let's see what kind of welcome awaits us inside." She took a step forward, leading the way into the darkness, her warrior's instincts screaming at her to turn back but her duty to the party overriding them. The air grew colder as they crossed the threshold, and the whispering voices in the stone seemed to grow louder, more insistent.