Round 117

Jeane's wings beat once, hard, as she descends a few steps back down the corridor, putting distance between herself and Halie while maintaining visual on both ends of the hallway. The binding shrieks again, higher this time, like tearing silk mixed with feedback from a dying speaker.

"Stop," Jeane commands, her voice sharp enough to cut through the magical protest. "Halie, freeze right there. Don't move another inch."

Halie halts mid-step, her hand instinctively reaching for the small cross at her neck before she catches herself and lets it fall back to her side. The corridor stretches out ahead of them, a series of ominously ajar doors lining both walls, the flickering light from above casting long shadows that seem to shift with each beat of Jeane's wings.

"What is this?" Halie demands, her voice tight with suspicion and exhaustion. "Why can't I move forward?"

Jeane's crimson eyes narrow as she scans the corridor again, particularly focusing on the doors ahead. The binding pulses between them, a sickening rhythm that makes her stomach churn. She forces her attention back to Halie.

"Because," Jeane says, her voice dropping to a low, controlled tone, "I don't know what's behind those doors. And I'm not about to let you stumble into whatever's waiting there while I'm barely keeping Silra contained and Zha'thik on our heels."

The binding shrieks again, louder this time, a sound like tearing flesh mixed with glass. Jeane grits her teeth against the pain of it, her wings instinctively half-extending as if to shield herself.

"Goddammit," she mutters under her breath, more to herself than to Halie. "Fine. I'll go first. But you stay right where you are until I clear each door. And for fuck's sake, don't try to 'help' with your divine reinforcement shit unless I explicitly tell you to."