Round 59

Seraphine's eyes widen in alarm as Jeane's body begins to convulse violently against her grip, the water churning around them both. "Jeane! What's happening?" She struggles to maintain her hold on the ledge with one hand while wrapping her other arm tightly around Jeane's waist, trying desperately to keep the succubus woman from being swept away by the current. "Talk to me—are you okay? Can you hear me?"

Jeane's head lolls back against Seraphine's shoulder, her long white hair floating in the water like a pale cloud. Her crimson eyes are squeezed shut in agony, and her teeth are gritted so hard that Seraphine can see the muscles standing out in her jaw. "Nnngh... f-fuck... not okay..." She gasps between convulsions, her fingers digging into the stone ledge with enough force to leave marks. "It's... it's trying to break through... oh gods, I can feel it pushing..."

Seraphine presses herself closer, using her body weight to pin Jeane against the ledge and out of the direct path of the current. "Don't you dare let go," she hisses, her voice tight with fear and determination. "I won't lose you to this thing—not here, not like this." She risks a glance at the reflection pool ahead, its surface still eerily smooth despite the rushing water around them. "We're so close—if we can just reach that pool, maybe I can figure out how to exorcise this thing from you..."

Jeane's convulsions subside into shuddering gasps, but her eyes remain closed, her face contorted in a mixture of pain and concentration. "I... I don't think I can move," she moans, her voice strained. "The wound in my leg—it's like fire now, and the reflection keeps feeding on it, getting stronger..." She opens her eyes slowly, and Seraphine sees that they're no longer just crimson—they've begun to swirl with dark tendrils of shadow. "You need to let me go," Jeane says, her voice barely more than a whisper. "If I lose control completely, I could hurt you—please, Sera, get away while you still can..."

Seraphine's grip tightens even further, her nails digging into Jeane's soaked robes. "No," she snaps, her voice cold and hard despite the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I'm not leaving you—not now, not ever. We face this thing together or not at all." She shifts her weight, trying to distribute their combined load more evenly across the narrow ledge. "Help me get us higher—if we can just climb up a bit, we'll be out of the direct current and have a better chance of thinking this through without drowning."

Jeane's eyes flutter open again, and for a moment, Seraphine sees a flicker of her friend—the real Jeane—shining through the darkness that has begun to corrupt her. "Okay," she breathes, nodding almost imperceptibly. "Together." With Seraphine's help, she begins to haul herself up onto the ledge, inch by agonizing inch, until both women are clinging precariously to the stone surface above the rushing water.

As soon as they're relatively stable, Seraphine risks a glance back at the reflection pool. Its surface has begun to ripple slightly, as if disturbed by their presence. "It knows we're here," she murmurs, more to herself than to Jeane. "We need to move fast—whatever that thing is, it doesn't want us to reach the pool." She turns her attention back to Jeane, taking in the woman's pale face, now streaked with sweat and river water. "How's your leg? Can you put any weight on it?"

Jeane shakes her head, her expression grim. "Not yet—it's still bleeding, and the water pressure doesn't help. But I can manage if we take it slow." She meets Seraphine's gaze, her swirling eyes a stark contrast to her friend's more natural hues. "Listen, Sera—I need you to promise me something. If this reflection takes full control, you have to run. Don't try to fight me—don't even try to talk to me. Just get out of here and find Merrin or Varrika. They'll help you..."

Seraphine's jaw sets in a mutinous line, but she doesn't immediately refuse—as much as she wants to argue, the look in Jeane's eyes tells her that this isn't just her friend being stubborn. "I... I'll consider it," she says finally, her voice tight. "But only if you promise me something in return." When Jeane nods reluctantly, she continues, "Promise me that no matter what happens, you won't give up. That reflection might be strong, but you're stronger—you've survived worse than this, and I won't let you forget it."

Jeane's lips curve into a weak smile, the expression both grateful and heartbreakingly vulnerable. "I promise," she whispers, reaching out to squeeze Seraphine's hand briefly before the current tugs at them again, forcing their attention back to the precarious ledge they cling to.*

The two women exchange a silent look, filled with unspoken fears and fierce determination, as the water continues to rush past them—both knowing that their next move could mean life or death, salvation or damnation.