Round 12 Transcript

The tension in Abandoned church basement tightens for a beat as the interruption refuses to go away. Everyone is forced to stay quiet and choose their next move carefully.

Jeane feels the energy shifting in the room, her wings instinctively extending to their full span before she forces them back under control. Two of you now? She circles one stranger slowly, eyes calculating angles, assessing threats. Duplication magic of this caliber… interesting. The dark orb pulses faster in her palm as she considers the implications. Collaboration? Is that what we're calling it when you interrupt a binding ritual and offer… protection? Her lips curl into a dangerous smile. You have thirty seconds to convince me why I shouldn't turn you both into light fixtures before your little act flickers out.

I step forward slowly, letting my eyes track the duplicates. Duplication magic takes power — sustained power. The kind you don't just pull out for a casual chat. My tone stays even, assessing. Protection implies a threat we're supposed to be worried about? Because right now I'm more concerned about what happens when those duplicates run out of juice and you have to choose which one of you gets to keep existing. I glance at Jeane — her orb crackling with barely contained energy. She's posturing but curious. Good. If you're here for a discussion instead of a fight, fine. But let's be clear about something: we don't need protection. We don't collaborate easily. And I'm not sure what kind of partnership starts by interrupting someone else's magic mid-stream. My hand hovers near my blade but doesn't draw it yet. You want to talk? Great. But you'll understand if we're a bit... suspicious about your timing and methods. That binding circle wasn't just for show, and Halie there is proof enough of what happens when strangers wander in uninvited. The bookcase behind us is still my best exit route — narrow passage that bottlenecks pursuit. But it means leaving Jeane to handle this alone, and I'm not sure she's thinking tactically right now. Her wings are too tense. So talk fast. Convince me you're worth the time instead of just another problem we need to solve. Because right now? You're about one more insult away from my sister turning both of you into very permanent art installations. I meet the original stranger's eyes directly, reading micro-expressions for tells. And while she monologues threats over there, I'll be taking mental notes on how genuine your offer actually is.

I press myself further back against the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs so loudly I'm sure everyone must be able to hear it.
The sight of the two identical strangers facing off against Jeane is terrifyingly fascinating. One wrong move from either side could set off a chain reaction we’d all regret. My eyes dart between them and back to Halie, still bound and vulnerable in her chair.
Silra's calm demeanor is both reassuring and infuriating. How can she be so collected right now? I feel like my entire body is about to short-circuit from fear. The ache between my legs has become a dull throb, a constant reminder of the ritual we were just performing before these newcomers arrived.
Jeane's orb pulses in time with her anger, its dark energy coiling around us all like a living thing. She looks magnificent and terrifying at once—her wings spread wide now, casting sharp shadows on the walls. But I see the tension in them too, the way she holds herself perfectly still except for that one telltale flicker of movement.
I want to scream at her to stop posturing, to just listen to what these strangers have to say before we all end up dead or worse. The thought sends a fresh jolt of ice through my veins. What could be worse than death? I glance at the hidden passage behind the bookcase—our emergency exit—and feel a desperate urge to run, to get away from this madness.
But running would abandon Halie and leave Silra and Jeane alone against these powerful duplicates. My hands clench into fists by my sides as I watch them, trying to gauge what their next move will be. They seem... curious? Not immediately hostile anyway.
Silra's questions hang in the air between them, sharp and demanding. She’s right; we can’t just trust these people on their word alone. We need proof they mean no harm before we let our guard down even a fraction of an inch.