Round 51

The passage ahead narrowed dramatically, forcing them to proceed in single file. Seraphine went first, her keen elven eyes scanning every inch of the stone walls for hidden dangers or traps. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows that played tricks on their exhausted minds, making it difficult to tell if they were truly alone or if unseen watchers lurked just beyond the circle of light.

Focus, Seraphine. Jeane's injury needed attention—blood loss could kill her faster than any magical trap or collapsing chamber. She looks... wrong. Her movements were jerky, uncoordinated, and those eyes—once a vibrant crimson—now held flecks of something darker, more predatory. Is this what possession truly looks like? The very thought sent a fresh wave of terror through her.

The growl had come from somewhere beyond their field of vision, but its implications were clear enough. Whatever lay ahead, it knew about the 'reflection within'—knew about Jeane's corruption and the dark...

Seraphine stopped abruptly, holding up a hand for silence. "Do you hear that?" she whispered, her sharp ears catching a faint scraping sound echoing from deeper in the passage. The luminescent fungus on the walls pulsed brighter, casting eerie shadows on the stone floor.

"I think I hear it," Jeane said, her voice barely above a whisper. The scraping sound grew louder—I could hear it now, unmistakable. Something was following them through this cursed maze. Something moves in the shadows ahead—too fast for my liking. Seraphine, back up! I drew my mace, its cold iron a familiar weight in my hand as I advanced slowly down the passage.

If whatever took root inside me is coming to collect... I'd rather face it here than let it catch us trapped between walls. *The pain in my thigh flared with each step, but I pushed through it—fo...

I watch as Jeane steps forward to face the twisted reflection of herself, her mace raised in defiance. The sight sends a jolt through me—a mix of awe at her courage and a chilling dread of what this dark creature might be capable of. Jeane! I call out, my voice echoing in the confined space of the chamber. I move to stand beside her, my staff held at the ready, its runes glowing with a weak, uncertain light.

My eyes dart between Jeane and her reflection, trying to discern some difference—some clue as to what we're truly facing.