Round 112 Transcript

As I crouch beside Halie, my crimson gaze meets hers directly, concern etched on my face. "Can you move?" I ask again, trying to keep my voice steady despite the magic burn still shrieking protests through every nerve ending. Halie struggles to sit up, wincing as she attempts to prop herself against the stone wall. Her blue-grey eyes, still ringed with shock, lock onto mine. "I... I think it's broken," she whispers, her voice barely audible. The binding threads between us are gone, severed during the magical backlash. The air is thick with tension as Silra rushes to Halie's side, trying to rouse her. Abby's eyes are wide with panic, her own breath catching in her throat. She takes a step back, her gaze darting towards the door where Zha'thik's scraping sounds are growing louder, more insistent. The chamber's glow intensifies, and the air crackles with residual magic, making every hair on Abby's arms stand on end. Suddenly, the pressure plate's glow dims, and a low hum fills the room, accompanied by the soft whisper: "Containment field collapsing... thirty seconds left..."

The binding threads between us snap audibly—a sound like piano wire parting—and I recoil instinctively from the sudden sharp pain of it. Halie's eyes meet mine across the space separating us now, wide with shock despite her best efforts at composure—she understands what just happened as clearly as I do.

I force myself to focus through the magic burn screaming protests throughout my entire nervous system. "Silra," I snap, voice harsher than intended because every syllable feels like pouring salt into open wounds but there's no time for gentleness right now anyway. "Stop. Whatever you're thinking about helping Halie—whatever ritual or spell you're trying to access in that panicked mind of yours—just stop." The binding might be gone but your magic is still unstable as fuck and we don't need another explosion ripping this room apart again. The containment field holding Silra's power barely flickers under strain despite all my concentration funneled into maintaining it—the field wavers visibly in places now like heat shimmer over desert road. Thirty seconds before collapse according to the room itself talking directly into our heads which is either psychic magic or psychological torture and honestly at this point I can't tell the difference anymore. Zha'thik's footsteps outside grow louder—he's testing the door frame now, metal scraping against stone with deliberate patience that says he knows we're trapped in here somehow and he's willing to wait us out if necessary because he has all the time in the world while we have approximately none.

I move toward Halie without thinking twice despite every fiber of my being screaming warnings about touching someone recovering from magical feedback. Crimson eyes lock onto blue-grey ones as I crouch beside her—close enough to smell the ozone stink of magical discharge still clinging to her skin and hair—and say "Can you move?" because that's the simplest question with clearest answer needed right now. The binding threads still linger as fading echoes between us visible only to someone attuned to magical resonance like myself but definitely present in that way fractured connections always are after separation—each thread represents a moment shared through forced intimacy we never chose freely and now this trap has weaponized even that violation for its purpose.*

I rush over to Halie's side, my heart pounding as I see her slumped against the wall, struggling to breathe. "Halie!" I exclaim, kneeling beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "Can you hear me? What do we do?" My eyes dart around the chamber, taking in the flickering runes and the faint blue glow emanating from Halie's body. The air crackles with energy, making my skin tingle uncomfortably. As I turn my head towards Silra, I catch a glimpse of Jeane's crimson eyes meeting mine across the space separating us now that the binding has been broken. My breath catches in my throat as I realize the gravity of our situation. We're trapped, injured, and something terrifying is coming for us. I move closer to Halie, whispering urgently "We need a plan. Can you stand?"