Round 19

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 Varikka, 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...

Seraphine felt her heart hammering against her ribs as she studied the ancient stonework of this crumbling tower. The air here was thick and heavy, clinging to her skin like a physical weight. It wasn't just the fatigue from their journey—no, this was something far more sinister—a palpable malevolence that seemed to emanate from every crack and crevice. *Her sharp elven eyes were drawn to the strange breathing symbols etched into the walls, their glyphs pulsing with an unnatural rhythm. They felt wrong, a violation of the natural order...