Round 217

Jeane's voice cuts through the heavy air, a desperate edge to her tone that Abby has never heard before. The succubus's pale skin glistens with sweat, her wings half-spread as if ready to take flight or shield them both from an attack. The magical portal she's maintaining pulses with an eerie blue-green light that casts flickering shadows across the crumbling walls of the chamber. Abby clings tighter to Jeane's arm, her wide brown eyes fixed on the skeletal dust figure closing in from the left. She can feel the magic draining from her companion with each heartbeat, the spell drawing on reserves already nearly depleted. 'You're right,' she gasps, her voice barely audible over the creaking of the ancient stone and the rumble of water somewhere below them. 'We have to try.' The glyphs on the floor pulse again in response, their patterns shifting and rearranging themselves into something new, something more complex—and potentially more dangerous.