Round 35 Transcript

The wards' pulse quickens, no longer measured seconds between each hungry throb. Jeane freezes mid-crouch on the roof's edge—she wasn't expecting them to feed this hard while she was still climbing. The hunger isn't just ambient anymore; it's focused through the stone directly beneath her palms. The wight chained to the altar shifts, bone-dry fingers flexing as if sensing her proximity. Its head tilts toward the roof access point, hollow sockets searching the shadows above. Jeane backs away slowly, components forgotten in favor of staying silent and unseen. The wards aren't just defenses—they're feeding something inside that's now aware of her presence. She has maybe fifteen minutes before whatever's truly awake in this tower decides whether to.". The question is whether it sees her as a guest... or as the next meal."

Jeane backs away from the roof's edge, leaving forgotten components behind; she signals down to Merrin with subtle hand movements—abort rooftop entry, new threat inside. The wards' hunger pulses in time with her own heartbeat, and something shifts on the altar below—a chained figure that wasn't there moments ago. Her wings itch beneath her cloak, but revealing them now would be suicide if whatever's upstairs decides to investigate the sudden spike of arcane energy from a demonic sorceress. She mouths silent words: The tower's woken up. We need to move—now. To Halie below, she hisses softly enough not to carry on the wind: "Something old and chained is stirring inside. The wards are feeding off it." Her fingers trace patterns in the air as she prepares a spell for rapid escape if needed. The Time-Splitting Sword glints dully on its altar, just out of reach—but the wight below has noticed her presence now, bone-dry fingers flexing against ancient chains that pulse with the same dark magic as the wards. The choice is clear: accelerate entry and hope Halie's divine light can cleanse whatever corruption binds that creature... or back away while still undetected before the entity upstairs decides how to respond. Jeane doesn't like either option, but she likes being trapped on a roof with active magical predators even less. She signals down again—ground floor, now—then edges backward toward the opposite side of the roof, maintaining visual on both the wight below and the shadowed window above. Every second feels like an eternity while her companions prepare to move. The wards' hunger pulses faster, feeding not just on proximity but on her own apprehension—a predator tasting its prey's fear from a distance. She suppresses that emotion with cold logic: They feed on fear. Let them taste courage instead.

The wards' hunger suddenly spikes, a sickening lurch in my gut that feels like the entire tower has just inhaled.
I freeze, one hand still clutching the roof edge while the other reaches for my spell components pouch. The shadow in the uppermost window hasn't moved, but I feel its attention shift, lock onto me with predatory intensity. Something is coming.
Something old and chained is stirring inside. The wards are feeding off it, a dark energy coiling around them like a serpent tasting the air. We need to move—now.
I signal down to Merrin to abort rooftop entry, a new threat inside. My fingers close around a fireball scroll, ready for rapid escape if needed. The wight chained to the altar below shifts, bone-dry fingers flexing as if sensing my proximity. It's a warning sign, a sign that the tower has woken up. We're no longer just intruders—we're prey.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what comes next. The choice is clear now. Accelerate entry or back away undetected before the entity upstairs decides how to respond. There's no room for hesitation left in this cursed place.