Round 84 Transcript

As Seraphine speaks, the symbols on the obsidian pillar begin to glow with a soft, ethereal light. The air around her seems to vibrate with an otherworldly energy, and the whispers in the wind grow louder, more urgent. Jeane's wings flutter wildly as she struggles to maintain altitude, but the sword at her side pulses with heat, its power coursing through her veins like liquid fire. Suddenly, the ground beneath them gives way, and they find themselves sliding down a hidden chute, the obsidian pillar disappearing from view. The air rushes past them in a deafening roar as they plummet towards an unknown destination, the whispers in the wind growing to a cacophony of fear and wonder.

I plummet through darkness, the world spinning around me as we slide down into an abyss. The sword at my side pulses with heat, its power surging through me like liquid fire. My wings beat frantically but find no purchase in this smooth chute—we're at the mercy of gravity now.

I can feel Seraphine beside me, her presence a reassuring anchor in this chaos. The wind roars past us as we accelerate downwards. The precarious cliff edge is far above now, and Merrin and Varrika are still trapped up there with no easy way to follow. We're alone together, the sword's power intensifying by the second.

As we slide faster into darkness, I call out over the rushing air: "Seraphine! The sword—it's affecting both of us now. We need to figure out what it does before it consumes us!" My voice is barely audible over our descent, but I know she heard me. "And we can't stop here—the bottom might be worse than the fall!"

The darkness presses in around us as we plunge deeper into this realm. The sword pulses again, and for a moment I swear I see shimmering figures dancing around us—reflections of ourselves or something else entirely? The magic in this place is warping my perceptions.

We're still sliding downwards with no end in sight. My arms instinctively wrap around Seraphine to protect her as we tumble. "Hold on!" I shout, though there's nowhere to grab onto in this smooth chute.

I cling to Jeane as we plummet through the darkness, the rough fabric of her tunic scraping against my cheek. The roar of the wind fills my ears, a constant, deafening rush that makes it impossible to think clearly. But even in this chaos, one thought crystallizes with startling clarity: the Time-Splitting Sword isn't just affecting Jeane anymore—it's affecting both of us.
The sword pulses at our side, its heat intensifying with every second we spend hurtling down this hidden chute. Its power feels like a living thing now, coiling around us, binding us together in this moment of shared terror and confusion. I can feel it in my own veins, a separate heart beating in time with the blade's rhythm.
"I can feel it too!" I shout over the roaring wind, my voice straining to be heard. "The sword—it's not just on you anymore!"
My arms tighten around Jeane's waist, holding her close as we tumble head over heels down this dark, slick passage. The air is thick with the scent of ancient stone and something else—something sharp and metallic that smells like raw magic.
The fall seems endless, each second stretching into eternity as we hurtle toward an unknown destination. I press myself against Jeane, trying to shield her from the worst of the jolts and bumps that rattle through our bodies. Her muscles are tense beneath my grip, coiled with a strength that both terrifies and reassures me.
Suddenly, the ground beneath us seems to shift. It’s not the slide anymore—we’re no longer falling straight down. We’re careening sideways, the chute twisting into a sharp turn. Jeane’s wings beat frantically against the sides of our makeshift tunnel, but they find no purchase here. We have no choice but to ride this out, wherever it leads.
As we round another corner, the air grows colder, damper. A strange, glowing light begins to seep into the darkness ahead—the faint, ethereal glow of some unknown magical source. The whispers that plagued us at the top of the cliff return, louder now, a cacophony of voices speaking in an ancient tongue I don't understand. They swirl around us like a physical presence, pressing in on all sides.
We finally come to a stop with a bone-jarring thud, our bodies piled together in a heap of tangled limbs and panicked breath. For a moment, all I can hear is the frantic hammering of my own heart. Then, slowly, my senses begin to realign. The sword at Jeane's side pulses once more, sending a shockwave of heat through both of us.
"We made it," I gasp, pushing myself upright with trembling arms. My robes are torn in several places, and I feel bruises already forming on my skin. But we're alive. For now.
I look around the space we've landed in—it's a vast, cavernous chamber, its walls lined with strange, pulsating runes that glow with an eerie, pulsing light. At the center of the room stands what can only be described as a massive, crystal-clear pool of shimmering liquid. It isn't water—the substance is thick and viscous, almost like molten glass. And within its depths, I see... myself. Not my reflection, but a perfect, three-dimensional copy of my own body, suspended in the liquid.
The sight chills me to the bone. This is no ordinary magic. This is something far more profound, something that defies the very nature of reality itself.
I turn to Jeane, her face illuminated by the strange glow from the pool. Her eyes are wide with the same mixture of fear and wonder that must be visible in my own. "Jeane," I whisper, my voice hoarse, "what is this place?"