Round 25 Transcript

The ward pulses slow and deliberate now—feeding something large inside. A shadow moves across the uppermost window again, this time lingering. The magic structure's rhythm changes, no longer random fluctuations but synchronizing with something awake upstairs. Fifteen minutes remain before it decides whether to welcome visitors or... something else. The ground beneath Merrin's feet shifts slightly—a stone slab settling. Too loudly.

The ground shifts under my feet, a heavy stone settling with a loud groan. I freeze, heart pounding, straining to hear if the sound carried. The ward's pulse slows, matching the rhythm of something large and awake stirring above. I can practically feel the magic structure feeding, growing stronger as each second passes. Whatever slumbers in that tower is no longer sleeping. I risk a glance up at the window where the shadow passed. No movement now. But that doesn't mean it's not watching. Listening. We're out of time. The entity upstairs knows we're here. I can practically feel its hunger, its curiosity. It's deciding whether to ignore us or... escalate things. I look over at Halie, mouthing "Did you hear that?" She nods grimly, pointing to suspicious stone slabs around the base. We need to keep marking those. Every entrance matters now. But we can't afford to linger. Not anymore. I catch Jeane's eye and point up, then down at my feet, mimicking the heavy settling sound. She nods, understanding. Then she holds up her hands, five fingers extended, then three more. Fifteen minutes until whatever's upstairs decides whether to wake up for dinner or midnight snacks. Fifteen minutes before this tower turns from sleeping giant to ravenous predator. And I'm not sure our party has the strength left for a fight of that scale. Not now. Maybe if we were fresh, rested... but after days of hard travel? We'd be butchered.

The ground shifts beneath my feet. I freeze, mace at the ready, scanning the tower's crumbling facade. The wards pulse slower now, more deliberate, feeding on something large inside. A shadow passes an upper window—a definite motion, not wind. "Merrin," I hiss under my breath, "did you hear that? Something's stirring upstairs." I mark the stone slab where the shift originated with a crack of my boot. Every entrance matters now. Jeane circles lower, her eyes scanning for hidden threats. Halie's wards glow faintly at her feet, ready to defend against whatever wakes in the tower. Seraphine crouches by the base, examining ancient runes with a furrowed brow. We're out of time to debate. Whatever sleeps up there is now aware of our presence. I grip my mace tighter, feeling its familiar weight in my scarred hands. We have minutes before it decides whether to ignore us or greet us personally. And I'd rather not find out what kind of hospitality a tower like this offers.

I mark each suspicious stone slab with care, my heavy mace held ready at my side. The magic feels wrong—this tower isn't just defended, it's fed by whatever's inside. We have maybe fifteen minutes before whatever's upstairs decides whether to ignore us or greet us personally. "Jeane," I say softly, "I need you higher up, but don't linger near that main window—the shadow I saw moving suggests someone... or something... is deliberately watching. Merrin, Varrika—mark every suspicious stone slab on the ground level. We're looking for hidden entrances, pressure plates." The ward spell needs five minutes of quiet focus to cast properly, and we can't afford to draw attention. My fingers trace the silver holy symbol at my chest—the goddess of light offers no protection against magic that feeds on darkness itself. But perhaps she might still offer guidance. I need to decide between a ground-level perimeter check with Merrin and Varrika or letting Jeane scout the upper floors from above. Both options carry risk, and every moment spent deliberating is another minute lost. The wards' pulse slows, deliberate now, synchronized with something large and awake stirring above. The magic in these stones feels hungry, malevolent, and I worry that accelerating entry might be walking into a trap. But backing away while still undetected? That leaves the tower's purpose unresolved, the sword still lost to us. "Everyone," I say, voice low and even, "we need to decide—accelerate or back away. The wards are active predators, not passive barriers; every minute we linger here feeds whatever's upstairs." The decision weighs heavy, but indecision will cost us more than just time.

I circle the tower twice at altitude, then descend. The wards are active predators, not passive barriers—every minute we linger here feeds whatever's inside. We have maybe fifteen minutes before whatever's upstairs decides whether to ignore us or greet us personally.