Round 77

The ancient gate's runes pulsed with a hungry rhythm, each glyph twisting into something almost organic—watching them with predatory interest. The air inside the corridor seemed to thicken, growing heavy with an oppressive malevolence that had nothing to do with simple age or decay. Seraphine approached cautiously, her sharp elven gaze fixed on the ward's surface as she cataloged every flicker and shift in the magic's behavior.

Merrin leaned forward instinctively, quick fingers already reaching for hidden tools before freezing mid-gesture as the warding magic surged outward. The distortion rippled across the stone like heat haze from an open furnace—visible proof that this barrier was anything but dormant. Halie took a step back, her hand clutching the silver cross at her throat as she murmured something that might have been prayer or curse.

Jeane circled the gate slowly, her wings shifting subtly beneath the cloak—a subtle betrayal of tension she kept from showing on her face. The runes pulsed with a hungry rhythm—this ward was no mere barrier. She turned to Merrin, voice low and urgent. "Stop. Put those tools away now before you trigger something far worse." The footsteps inside the tower took another step closer.

The Ward's magic shuddered in response, its hunger intensifying as it tasted their fear on the air. Something ancient and terrible waited beyond that gate—something that had been feeding on lost adventurers for centuries. And now, it knew fresh prey had arrived.