Round 50

The chamber's ancient stone walls seemed to exhale dust as the magic pulsed again, brighter now and more insistent. Seraphine leaned over the pit's edge, her sharp elven eyes narrowed against the gloom, while Varrika crouched beside her with crossbow aimed down into the darkness, every muscle coiled tight. The wizard's voice was low and tense as she spoke: "The air here... it feels wrong. Heavy. Like the stone itself is holding its breath." Below them, Jeane's voice floated up from the depths, strained but controlled: "Floor panel gave way—something down here with me now. Not stone. Organic. Moving." Varrika spat into the pit. "Shit. Rope coming down, hold on!" Her call echoed off the walls before being swallowed by an ominous silence that seemed to press in from all sides.