Round 23

Varrika moved forward into the tower, her mace held at the ready, the darkness pressing in around her like a physical weight. The air grew colder, and an eerie, scuttling noise emanated from the depths of the hallway, growing louder with each passing moment. The ward's pulse intensified, casting flickering shadows on the walls as the magical energy seemed to writhe like a living thing. Suddenly, a faint, pungent smell wafted through the air, making Halie's eyes water. She winced, her grip tightening on her holy symbol.

Jeane pushed her wings tight against her back in the narrow space of the corridor. The ward's pulse was wrong—each beat sent little tremors through the stone underfoot, and she felt it in her teeth. This wasn't warding designed to keep out thieves. It was warding designed to make sure things stayed in.* 'Listen,' she said to Halie, voice low. 'The ward's geometry is collapsing inward with each pulse. Whatever that voice meant by Devourer, the ward is feeding it energy now we've triggered this.' She traced patterns on the wall with a fingertip, her expression grim.

Seraphine felt the ancient magic of this place like a physical weight on her skin, a malevolent pulse that seemed to echo through every bone in her body. The air itself felt thick with it, heavy and suffocating. As Varrika stepped forward into the tower, her mace held at the ready, Seraphine instinctively drew back, her gaze fixed on the shadowed corridors stretching out before them. The scuttling noise grew louder, more insistent, and a fresh wave of dread washed over her.

'The wards... they're active now,' she said, her voice barely above a whisper.* 'Whatever's coming, it won't be friendly.'

Varrika growled under her breath, more to herself than to the others. 'Stay sharp. Whatever's coming, it won't be friendly.' The air grew thick with an ominous energy, like a storm brewing just out of sight.