Round 18

The air inside this crumbling stone tower was thick with a palpable malevolence, making it difficult for Seraphine to breathe comfortably as she stepped forward into the corridor. Her sharp elven eyes scanned the flickering symbols etched into the walls—ancient runes mixed with dark arcane script that pulsed with a desperate, hungry light. It was unlike any magic she had encountered before in her studies, and the sheer wrongness of it sent a shiver down her spine.

Jeane stepped back from the corridor's threshold, her crimson eyes narrowing as she studied the pulsing symbols on the walls. The demonic magic here was thick and wrong—rotten, almost, like old meat left in the sun too long. "Halie has the right of it," Jeane said coolly to Varrika, who stood mace-ready at the edge of darkness. "Those breathing marks aren't natural arcana—they're demon-work...

Merrin edged closer to the dimly lit corridor, her crossbow at the ready. The air in this place was thick with a malevolent energy that made her skin crawl. Those breathing symbols on the walls... they were not natural. There was something wrong about them, something unholy. "Keep your distance from those symbols," she warned softly to Varrika and the others. "I don't trust 'em."