Round 225

Jeane's crimson eyes widen in alarm as she sees the box lid creak open, a swirling vortex of dark energy spilling out into the chamber. "Abby! Fight it!" she commands, her voice sharp with urgency, but I can see the panic beneath her stern facade.

I stumble back instinctively, my heart hammering in my chest as the air around us crackles with an otherworldly power. The energy coiling around my arm pulses rhythmically, almost hypnotically—it's pulling me towards the box on its pedestal, drawing something out of me. My body feels heavy, sluggish, as if some unseen force is pressing down on me from all sides.

Jeane moves closer, her dark wings half-spread for balance on the unstable stone floor. The symbols etched into the box begin to glow, each one lighting up like a star in some cursed night sky. The lid trembles slightly—once, twice—and then slowly, agonizingly, begins to open wider.

I can feel my will draining away with each passing second, my resistance crumbling under the onslaught of dark energy. The vortex inside the box seems to be calling to me, promising power and knowledge beyond mortal comprehension. But something deep within me—instinct or memory—screams a warning: this is not a gift, but a curse.

Jeane's voice cuts through the haze of temptation like a blade. "Abby! Snap out of it!" She grabs my arm, her touch jolting me back to my senses. The dark energy recoils slightly, hissing in frustration as I shake my head, trying to clear it.