Round 93

The moment Jeane's fingers brush the stone, the runes flare with a sickening intensity. The energy that courses through them is not meant to guide or protect—the sigils aren't designed to guide or protect—they're designed to bind and corrupt." She staggers back, her wings half-spreading in instinctive defense. "This isn't just dark magic. This is demonic. Old and powerful. Whatever's trapped behind this... it's not something we should be messing with lightly."

Seraphine steps closer to the wall, her eyes narrowing as she studies the intricate runes etched into the stone. The air around them pulses with an unsettling energy, a rhythmic throb that seems to sync with her own heartbeat. It’s a feeling I know all too well—the sensation of something ancient and malevolent stirring beneath the surface." She can feel the weight of the heavy mace at her hip, but her mind is already racing through arcane texts and forbidden lore.

Varrika's eyes narrow as she looks at the pulsing runes, her grip tightening on her heavy mace. "Those seals are no mere warnings," she growls, her gravelly voice echoing in the crumbling tower. "They're holding back something foul, and whatever it is, it doesn't want to be let out." She turns to Merrin, concern etched on her weathered face. "Merrin, leave Halie be for now. We need you clear-headed if we're going to deal with whatever's behind those seals."

The whispers that had been plaguing them for days seem to intensify, swirling around the group like an unseen presence eager to feed off their fear. The magic here... it's not meant to guide or protect—the sigils aren't designed to guide or protect—they're designed to bind and corrupt." She presses a hand against the wall where ancient runes pulsed with a malevolent light. "Something's wrong here," she says, her voice tight with barely contained revulsion.

The air in the crumbling tower base had grown thick with apprehension, the kind of dread that settles heavy in the chest and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The whispers that had been plaguing them for days seemed to intensify, swirling around the group like an unseen presence eager to feed off their fear. Jeane stepped forward, her crimson eyes fixed on the wall where ancient runes pulsed with a malevolent light. "Something's wrong here," she said, her voice tight with barely contained revulsion.