Round 58

Halie's fingers traced the ornate mirror frame as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. The glass seemed to ripple with an otherworldly disturbance, as if something unseen watched their every move from just beyond its surface. "This feels... off," she said, her wariness evident in every syllable. "Like something's watching us from the edge of perception." She turned to Silra, her expression a mix of concern and confusion. "What did you mean by 'magical corruption'? What exactly happened up there?"

Jeane felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment as Halie questioned her so directly about what had transpired upstairs. There was no point in deflecting now—the cleric's sharp intuition had clearly sensed more than she'd hoped to conceal. But admitting the full truth was equally dangerous, especially given Silra's volatile state and Hera's unexpected presence. "The binding is... complicated," she admitted slowly, each word measured as she searched for a way to explain without revealing too much about her true nature or intentions. "It was meant to be temporary—a mere demonstration of my abilities." She gestured vaguely toward the door leading back to the living area where the spell had been cast.

Silra stepped forward before Hera could answer for both of them—she wasn't about to let the half-elf speak on her behalf in this mess. Her gut was still churning from whatever the hell Jeane had done upstairs, and now they were supposed to just... trust her? In her own chambers? Right. "Let me make sure I understand this," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm as she scanned the neat shelves of books and glinting arcane junk scattered around the room. "We've got a magical hangover from whatever freak accident you orchestrated upstairs—an ancient entity showing up to facilitate some kind of binding spell—and now we're just supposed to... what? Have a nice chat about it over tea?" She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing as she glared at Jeane.

Halie moved between them, her voice cutting through the rising tension with practiced authority. "Enough." She fixed each of them with a stern look in turn—Silra first, then Hera, and finally settling on Jeane herself. "We are not children squabbling over toys, and this is no mere misunderstanding." Her hand moved to her belt, fingers brushing against the hilt of her mace—a subtle reminder that she was more than capable of handling any further threats or complications. "What did you mean by 'magical corruption'? What exactly happened up there?"