Round 93

The gate's ancient stone ground against stone with a sound like teeth grinding awake, groaning open under its own weight into darkness beyond. Merrin stepped back instinctively, her hand still tingling from where she'd brushed the hidden plates—sparks had leapt at her touch, and now the runes pulsed with hungry light. Jeane moved forward instead, her crimson eyes scanning the shadows for threats visible only to her kind. The air tasted wrong here, thick with decay and something else, something ancient that made Merrin's skin crawl. "Stay close," Jeane whispered, barely audible over the echoes of their own footsteps. "This place is active. The magic isn't sleeping—it's feeding."