Round 33

The tower's ground floor rumbled ominously as the ancient runes pulsed with fresh dark energy. Jeane called up from her hidden pit, voice strained but steady: "Merrin! Stay calm and quiet—whatever's down here might be drawn by sound." The walls around them seemed to close in, unstable in the flickering torchlight. Halie stepped forward carefully, her heavy mace held ready. The air in this place felt wrong—heavy with old magic and death. "Stay back," she warned the others, her voice tight but steady. "The floor isn't safe." She reached for her holy symbol, fingers closing around the cool metal.

Varrika secured her position at the entrance, crossbow aimed into the shadows beyond their small circle of light. The pulsing runes cast an eerie glow across the chamber, their ominous light dancing on the stone walls. "Light those torches and mark the floor!" she called out. "We need to secure our position before we do anything else." Seraphine moved forward with a lit torch, her sharp eyes scanning for any sign of weakness in the stonework or hidden mechanisms.

Merrin fumbled for their tinderbox, desperate to see what was down there. The walls seemed to close in, unstable in the flickering torchlight. They had to find a way to reach Jeane without drawing the attention of those skeletons above. The pit walls pulsed with each heartbeat, the runes above growing brighter, more insistent. Jeane tested the floor around the edge of her trap with her mace handle; it felt solid again. Whatever mechanism had caught her had reset.

She needed to find a way out before these wards fully activated or whatever was making those clicking sounds below decided to investigate. The darkness pressed in, thick and absolute. She could hear movement—small claws or clicking bone—shifting somewhere beneath her. Something was down there with her.