Round 84

The runes' hunger surged like a predator scenting prey, their carved mouths gaping wider as Merrin's fingers brushed the stone wall. Varrika moved instinctively, shifting her stance between Halie and the dark corridor beyond, heavy mace held ready. The dwarf woman's scarred face tightened with barely contained apprehension—she'd fought countless horrors in her years as a sellsword, but this ancient magic felt wrong on a bone-deep level.

Seraphine stepped closer to the gate, her sharp elven eyes narrowed in concentration as she studied the writhing symbols. "The runes are not just symbols," the wizard murmured, more to herself than the group. "They're mouths waiting to be fed." Her pale fingers traced intricate patterns in the air, magic coiling visibly at her fingertips as she probed the barrier's edges with his senses.

Jeane felt every rune like teeth waiting to close around them, their hunger pulsing against her skin in a sickening rhythm. Whatever had been moving inside the tower had gone silent now—a development far more ominous than the slow footsteps they'd heard earlier. The succubus sorceress's crimson eyes blazed with warning as she turned to Merrin.

"If you're set on finding another way in," Jeane said, her voice cutting through the thick air like a razor, "scout the walls with your eyes first, not your tools. Those things are mouths waiting to be fed, and they haven't swallowed anything in centuries." The runes seemed to hunger at her words, their movements becoming more aggressive, more desperate.

The tower itself seemed to come alive around them, the very stone groaning with ancient power. Something moved in the darkness beyond the gate—a shadow detaching from deeper shadows, too large and wrong-shaped to be human. It stopped just inside the corridor's edge, watching them with eyes that glowed like embers.

Merrin's hand froze mid-reach for her lockpicks, her rogue's instincts screaming at her to back away slowly. The ward's magic pulsed hungrily against Varrika's skin as she stood guard, heavy mace ready. Jeane's magic danced around them, probing for weaknesses in the barrier while Seraphine continued his study of the writhing symbols.

The air was thick with tension, the silence before a storm breaking. Whatever lay beyond that gate had just invited them inside—and something told them it wasn't to share tea and pleasant conversation. The runes' hunger surged again, their mouths gaping wider in anticipation of fresh souls to devour.