Round 2

As Jeane Cromwell's eyes locked onto the faint indentation in the stone, her fingers itched to unleash a burst of arcane energy. Silra's gaze darted about, searching for any hidden trigger, before her fingers made contact with the pressure plate. The soft click echoed through the air, and the slab above them shuddered, threatening to fall.

Jeane's voice cut through the tension, sharp as a whip, as she hissed, "Move your arse!" She drew power from the corruption that coursed through her veins like tainted lifeblood, her magic simmering just below the surface. Silra's eyes flashed with alarm as Jeane's words seemed to conjure an unseen weight, crushing the air between them.

Silra's lithe form arced through the air, a blur of silver-blonde hair and teal eyes, as she threw herself sideways just as the slab came loose overhead. The rush of stone and dust was a maelstrom of sound and fury, Silra landing hard on ash-covered cobbles, her hand instinctively finding the hilt of her dagger.