Round 92

The tower's interior yawned before them like a dark maw, the air thick with decay and something else—something ancient and malevolent that made Merrin's skin crawl. Jeane took point immediately, her crimson eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness as she picked out details invisible to mortal vision: faint arcane traces along the walls, hidden pressure plates beneath worn flagstones, and most disturbingly—a thick residue of dark magic coating everything like cobwebs. "Stay close," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the echoes of their own footsteps. "This place is... active. The magic here isn't dormant—it's hungry."