Round 112

Seraphine's sharp eyes widen as the chamber walls begin to collapse inward with a resounding rumble. The Watcher! She exclaims, her voice tight with fear and awe. What is this creature? Why has it trapped us here? The massive stone guardian's form seems to expand impossibly, filling every corner of the cramped space. Its voice resonates within Seraphine's mind, a dark promise that sends shivers down her spine.

The air grows thin and cold as the ancient magic of this place seeps into her very being. The echoes of time... She murmurs, her gaze fixed on the Watcher's shifting form. I saw them myself during my fall—battles from different eras overlapping, reality bending and breaking. Her fingers tighten around her mace, a futile gesture against such a powerful entity.

Despite the immediate danger, Seraphine finds herself hyper-aware of her isolation now that she's severed from Jeane. Without my companion's magic to anchor me here, I'm utterly vulnerable in this timeless realm. The memory of their fall together flashes through her mind—Jeane's body pressed against hers for the entire descent, the sensation of being held so intimately.

The sword in Jeane's hand pulses again, its light casting flickering shadows on Merrin's furious face and Varrika's calm features. What does it mean? Seraphine wonders aloud, her voice barely audible over the distant echoes of ancient battles. What answers is this... thing offering?