Round 6

The tower's ancient stone groans under its own weight, and now something else joins the sound—bones scraping against stone. The air grows heavy with wrongness, thick with the stench of decay mixed with something sharp and unnatural. Jeane circles the base slowly, her crimson eyes scanning every crack and shadow for movement. This isn't just a crumbling ruin; it's an active temple to corruption.

"Look," she hisses, pointing to where the stonework seems fresh-scarred, dark runes still wet with whatever passed this way recently. "Someone—or something—has been working on these defenses. The magic here is wrong, layered over the old wards like fresh paint over rot." Her wings shift restlessly behind her, a subtle tremor of unease.

Merrin edges closer to Halie, her crossbow already half-raised, eyes darting between the tower's shadows and Jeane's tense posture. "Fresh magic?" she mutters. "That means whatever's in there isn't just old bones, it's... active? Maintained?"

Halie nods grimly, her blue-grey eyes fixed on the tower entrance. "Active undead are dangerous enough. But something that maintains them, actively fuels them—that's far worse." She raises her holy symbol higher, the silver catching what little moonlight filters through the clouds. "Stay close to me and Varrika. We go in together, watch each other's backs."

Jeane finishes her circuit and returns to the group, her expression grave. "I don't like this. The magic signatures are wrong—they're not just residual, they're fresh applications. Whatever's in there isn't mindless bone-stacks; it's got an active power source." She glances at Merrin. "Mark every movement pattern you see inside. We need to map this thing's routines."

The wind picks up suddenly, carrying a faint sound—bones clicking against stone from deep within the tower. No one speaks for a moment, the weight of the task ahead settling over them like physical stone.