Round 6

As Jeane cautiously approached the kitchen doorway, her iron poker held across her body like a blade, the rain drummed on the roof, muffled by the sound of her own steady heartbeat. The weak light from the brass lamp barely penetrated this far into the hall, leaving the darkness beyond shrouded and unfathomable. She had heard the deliberate creak from downstairs, and now she sensed a sharp edge to the air, a chemical tang that made her teeth ache - gunpowder. The scent mingled with damp earth and woodsmoke, a potent mix that signaled the presence of an intruder.

The Force moved silently toward the stairwell, her back pressed against the wall, as she listened for any sign of movement below. Footsteps echoed on the basement floor, slow and deliberate - not her imagination's creation. Whoever was down there was trying to be quiet, but the creaking sound had already betrayed their presence. The Force's grip on the iron poker tightened, her eyes fixed on the stairwell as she waited for the intruder to make their next move.