Round 124

Jeane's fingers dance through the air, tracing complex sigils that flare with arcane energy before dimming. Seraphine presses herself against the far wall, her dark elegant hair spilling over her shoulders as she watches with barely contained anxiety. The ground beneath them shifts ominously, and dust rains from the ceiling.

"Time magic," Jeane mutters, her voice low and focused. "On shifting ground in a collapsing tower. Fucking perfect." She completes the incantation, the symbols flaring brightly for an instant before settling into a steady glow. The air around them thickens with power, crackling with potential.

Seraphine's breath catches as she realizes what Jeane is attempting. "Are you trying to... stabilize time itself?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. The elf shifts her weight from foot to foot, torn between wanting to help and fear of disrupting the delicate working. She opens her mouth to speak again, then closes it, biting her lower lip in indecision.

The ground beneath them groans, settling slightly as Jeane's spell takes effect. The dust stops falling, and for a moment, the chamber feels almost... stable. But the runes on the wall pulse ominously, their light seeming to intensify in response to the magical working. Jeane straightens slowly, her expression grim.

"Did that actually work?" Seraphine asks, hope mingling with disbelief in her voice.

Jeane shrugs, her wings shifting restlessly. "I think so? For now, at least. But this whole place is fucking cursed, and I have no idea what kind of backlash my spell might cause." She glances around the chamber, her crimson eyes narrowed in concentration. "We need to move. Fast."

Seraphine nods, pushing herself off the wall. The ground feels solid now, but she can still feel the wrongness of this place, like reality itself is bending around them. "Where? We don't even know where Merrin or Varrika are, let alone how to get out of here."

Jeane's gaze falls on the new section of corridor that the shifting floor has revealed. "There," she says, pointing at the dark opening. "New passage. Could lead somewhere useful... or straight into a death trap." She moves towards it cautiously, her hand already glowing with arcane energy.

Seraphine follows, her heart pounding in her chest. The air in the new corridor is thick and still, smelling of ancient stone and something else—something wrong. She shivers involuntarily, pulling her robes tighter around herself. "Well," she says, trying for a bravado she doesn't quite feel, "at least we're not standing on shifting ground anymore."

Jeane glances back at her, a hint of amusement in her crimson eyes despite the tension evident in her posture. "Small favors," she mutters, and steps into the darkness beyond.