Round 180

Jeane's eyes narrow as she watches Abby carefully from her vantage point in the air. The civilian's words are reassuring, but something about this setup still feels... off. Ancient magic doesn't just respond to casual exploration like this, especially not with such immediate and specific effects. "Wait," she calls out, her voice cutting through the hum of the chamber. "This isn't right. Magic like this—it's too responsive, too precise." She beats her wings harder, gaining more altitude as she maintains a safe distance from the swirling darkness below.

As she speaks, Jeane feels a familiar yet unsettling sensation—a pulse of power that seems to originate not from within her but from somewhere else entirely. Her binding spell, which should be stable and under her control, suddenly flares with unexpected intensity, the magical threads snapping taut and vibrating with an ominous resonance. "Fuck," she hisses through clenched teeth, struggling to maintain control over the suddenly rebellious magic. "Abby, get back! Something's wrong with the binding!"

Below, Abby freezes mid-step, her wide brown eyes fixed on Jeane as she takes in the sorcerer's sudden tension and the visible strain in her voice. The blue glow from the pressure plates seems to pulse faster in response to the magical outburst, casting flickering shadows across the chamber walls. "What's happening?" she calls up, her voice barely more than a whisper despite the urgency of the situation.

Jeane grits her teeth, her wings beating furiously as she fights to contain the rogue magic. The binding spell pulses with each beat of her heart, the magical threads stretching and snapping back like over-taut piano wire. "I don't know!" she manages to shout back, her voice strained. "The binding—it's not responding right. It's... alive somehow. Fucking hell, this is bad news." She looks down at the swirling darkness below, then back up at Abby. "Whatever you do, don't touch anything else! The magic in here is way more sentient than it should be!"

As if to emphasize her point, the chamber itself seems to resonate with a low groan, the very stone vibrating in response to the magical discharge. The pressure plates beneath Abby's feet pulse even brighter, their patterns shifting once more as they react to Jeane's outburst.