Round 208 Transcript

As we plummet downwards, the water pressure builds, threatening to crush us. The pale white flash beside us resolves into a humanoid figure, its body translucent and glowing in the faint light that filters down from above. It's a woman with long, flowing hair and eyes that seem to hold a deep sorrow. The figure's gaze locks onto Jeane, and she feels an inexplicable sense of calm wash over her. The skeletal figure behind us continues to move forward, its empty eye sockets fixed on Abby, who's still unconscious in my arms. I try to shield her with my body, but the water's force is too strong, threatening to rip us apart. The glowing woman raises a hand, and the water around us begins to churn and boil, as if it's being manipulated by an unseen force. The skeletal figure hesitates, its movement slowing as if it's uncertain what to do next. I take advantage of the distraction to try and find a way to stabilize Abby's body, but it's too late – the water's pressure is too intense, and she begins to slip from my grasp...

I feel Abby's body go limp against me as consciousness slips away—her lungs emptying in a rush of bubbles that rise past my face like ghostly fingers. The cold water presses in from every side now, the pressure immense and unyielding. My own reserves are nearly gone; maintaining this desperate grip on her is taking everything I have left. Above us, the skeletal figure hovers at the edge of our descent, its intent still unclear but unnervingly persistent. And now... something else. A pale form moving through the depths beside us—female in shape but not human, I don't think. Translucent skin glowing faintly against the abyss below. The water around us shifts abruptly, currents pulling and pushing with purposeful force that has nothing to do with natural flow or our falling momentum. Something—or someone—is controlling this space now. And whatever it is seems focused on Abby, not me. The skeletal thing pauses at the edge of the abyss, its empty sockets seeming to follow her limp form as we fall. I try to speak but get only a mouthful of saltwater for my trouble—a frantic, wordless bubble escapes instead. My lungs burn with need, muscles screaming in protest as I attempt to keep us oriented and moving downward rather than spinning out of control. The pressure builds, each passing second an eternity as we sink deeper into the unknown depths below. Abby's face is pale in the gloom—too pale—and her chest doesn't rise at all now that she's stopped thrashing. We're maybe fifty feet down? A hundred? The light from above is just a faint haze now, barely visible through the dark water and swirling debris. My wings are nearly useless here, too slow to counter the water's pull or the strange currents manipulating us. The glowing figure draws closer, its features becoming clearer despite the gloom—a woman with flowing hair like seaweed, eyes that seem to hold galaxies within them. She moves with impossible grace through the water, hands outstretched towards Abby as if in offering or benediction. I feel a strange pull then—an urge to let go of Abby and let this... whatever she is... take her. The thought comes not as my own but as something suggested, like temptation whispered directly into my mind. My grip on consciousness—and on Abby herself—loosens fractionally before I wrench it back with sheer force of will. No. Not happening. Not like this. I look down at the abyss stretching endlessly below us—the black water promises oblivion if we go too deep, and I'm not ready for that. The pressure is unbearable now, every inch of my body screaming in protest as the water compresses flesh and bone with relentless force. But there's a current beneath us—a strange, upward pull that might be our only chance. If I can just angle us right... My wings beat weakly, trying to steer us towards that faint hope while keeping Abby's head above—well, above what passes for "above" in this watery hellscape. The skeletal figure still hovers at the surface, watching. The glowing woman moves closer, her expression unreadable but somehow demanding. And Abby's body is getting colder by the second against my chest as I struggle to keep her head above the rising pressure of the depths. What do you want? I think at the glowing figure, words forming in my mind rather than escaping my lips. Help or harm—I need to know which before my strength gives out completely and we both drown anyway.

I feel Jeane's arms tighten around me as we plunge into the abyss, her body a warm anchor in the frigid darkness. The water rushes past my ears, a constant roar that fills every corner of my mind. My lungs scream for air, but all I can do is hold onto consciousness by sheer force of will.
Then, through the haze of pain and disorientation, I see it. A pale figure moving with impossible grace just beyond Jeane's wings—a woman made of light, her form seeming to shift and ripple in the gloom. She reaches out a hand towards me, fingers extended as if in invitation or benediction. The sight sends a jolt through my system, momentarily overriding even the desperate need for oxygen.
The pressure builds around us, squeezing from every side like an enormous fist closing around our bodies. I can feel Jeane’s strength waning as she struggles to keep us afloat and oriented. Her grip on me loosens slightly, and fear lances through me—the cold water feels so much more threatening now that it seems poised to tear us apart.
I try to turn my head to look back at the surface, but Jeane's hold is too tight. All I can see are bubbles rising past my face—a constant reminder of how quickly our air supply is dwindling. My vision starts to tunnel again, black creeping in from all sides as the lack of oxygen takes its toll.
A wave of dizziness washes over me, and everything seems to slow down, becoming a surreal, dreamlike scene. The glowing woman appears even closer now, her features clearer though still ethereal. Her eyes lock onto mine, and I feel an inexplicable sense of calm wash through the panic, like a soothing hand on my frantic heart. It's not just a hallucination—there’s something real about this presence.
The skeletal figure above is forgotten in that instant. All that matters is the ethereal woman, her offered hand seeming to promise safety in this watery hell. I feel myself wanting to reach for it, to let go of Jeane and take whatever salvation she offers. The urge is overwhelming, a siren song calling me away from pain and fear.
But no. Even as my mind screams to just give in, some deep, primal part of me resists. This isn't right. It can’t be this easy. We were supposed to escape the trials, not drown in some underwater labyrinth. I try to twist in Jeane’s grip, to communicate this new threat without words, but my limbs are leaden with exhaustion and the crushing pressure.
I want to scream, to tell Jeane about the ghostly woman hovering nearby, but only bubbles escape my lips. The light from above is fading fast now, plunging us into near-total darkness. And still, the pressure builds, squeezing us like a giant hand, threatening to crush us at any moment.