Round 6

The tower's ancient magic thrummed beneath their fingers—a living thing, hungry and patient. The runes pulsed with dark energy that had sustained them for centuries, feeding on something trapped inside those stone walls.

Varrika stepped back from the entrance, her warrior's instincts screaming a warning. "This isn't just old magic," she growled. "Something's keeping these wards alive and hungry." Her grip tightened on her mace as she scanned the tower's dark heights for any sign of movement.

Jeane completed her circuit of the perimeter, folding her wings with a soft rustle of leathery membrane. "Whatever's inside this place," she said, voice tight with controlled unease, "it's been feeding these wards for a long time. The magic is... parasitic. We need to approach carefully or we'll be walking right into whatever trap it's set over centuries."

Merrin nodded slowly, her rogue's eyes calculating angles and escape routes even as she listened. "I can scout ahead," she offered, already moving toward the tower's shadowed entrance. "But if something tries to pull us in, we need a plan for getting out fast." She glanced back at Halie and Seraphine, her expression showing both calculation and genuine concern.

Seraphine stood beside Merrin, her fingers still tracing the ancient runes. "I can map the wards' structure," she said softly. "But breaking them without understanding their purpose could release whatever's inside." Her sharp elven eyes met each of theirs in turn. "We need to decide if we're ready for this. The magic here is... wrong. Ancient and powerful and hungry."

The group fell silent, the weight of their decision hanging heavy in the night air. The tower loomed above them, its hunger palpable, waiting for an answer.