Round 225 Transcript

As Jeane's eyes snap open, the whispering beneath the floor grows louder, the words becoming slightly clearer: "...master calls... binding weakens..." Abby's grip on my arm tightens, her voice barely above a whisper. "What does it mean?" she asks, her eyes fixed on the boxes. I turn to one of the pedestals, my fingers tracing the intricate carvings on the lid. The symbols seem to be shifting, rearranging themselves in a pattern that's almost... familiar. Suddenly, the box emits a faint hum, and the air around it begins to ripple. A tendril of energy bursts forth, coiling around Abby's wrist like a living thing. "Abby, no!" I shout, but she doesn't flinch. The energy thrumming around her arm grows stronger, as if it's being drawn to something within her. The whispering beneath the floor reaches a fever pitch, the words now a maddening chant: "Master calls... binding weakens..."

The energy thrumming around my arm pulses rhythmically, almost hypnotically—it's pulling me towards the box on its pedestal, drawing something out of me. Jeane steps closer, her eyes wide with alarm as she sees what's happening. "Abby! Fight it!" she commands, but I can see the panic beneath her stern facade. 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 rise.

The air around us feels wrong, like it's pressing against my skin from all sides. The whispers beneath our feet grow louder, more insistent. "Master calls..." I can feel something ancient stirring down there in the dark, something that shouldn't exist anymore.

I feel an icy wave of terror wash over me as the box lid creaks open, revealing a swirling vortex of dark energy within. The air around us crackles with an otherworldly power, raising the fine hairs on my arms and neck. My eyes are locked on the ominous contents of the box, but I can still see the desperate look on Jeane's face out of the corner of my vision.
My body feels heavy, sluggish, as if some unseen force is pressing down on me from all sides. The energy coiling around my arm tightens its grip, sending a jolt of pain up to my shoulder. It's not just painful—it’s possessive, almost loving in its intensity. The chanting beneath the floor grows louder, more demanding.
The symbols on the box begin to spin faster, matching the frantic beating of my heart. A sense of being pulled apart from the inside out threatens to overwhelm me. I try to take a step back, but my feet are rooted to the spot. The world around us seems to blur, the edges fading into a haze of darkness. Only the box and its seething contents remain in sharp focus.
"I... I can't move," I gasp out to Jeane, my voice strained and thin with fear. "Something's holding me here."