Round 25

The ancient stone groaned around them like a beast waking from slumber, the sound echoing through the chamber with a bone-chilling resonance that set Jeane's teeth on edge. Dust hung heavy in the air, thick and choking, reducing visibility to mere feet and making it nearly impossible to see more than a few yards ahead. She coughed, wiping her eyes clear with the back of one hand while maintaining a death-grip on her mace with the other.

"What the fuck was THAT?" she demanded, voice hoarse from dust inhalation. Seraphine lay sprawled nearby, her robes twisted and disheveled, hair come loose from its usual tidy bun to fan out in a dark halo around her head. She pushed herself up on one elbow, wincing as various bruises made their presence known. "The entire floor gave way," she snapped back, voice sharp with lingering adrenaline and no small amount of irritation. "Perhaps because someone decided to blast ancient magical wards without considering the structural consequences?"

Jeane opened her mouth for a retort, then closed it again as another low rumble ran through the stone around them. She glanced upwards instinctively, as if expecting the ceiling to come crashing down—though given how much of the floor had already collapsed, that seemed like a minor concern compared to the gaping maw of darkness now yawning beneath their feet.

We're alive. That counts for something. Focus, Jeane. Merrin's still unconscious down there, and Serrie's got her. Varrika looks ready to punch something, probably me if I say the wrong thing—but she's also keeping watch, which is what matters right now.

"Everyone breathing?" she asked, already moving toward them because standing still meant thinking about how close they'd come to dying, and dwelling on that kind of shit was a good way to lose your nerve. Seraphine nodded, her face pale but determined.

We need to find a way down there without this whole fucking place coming down around our ears. And then we need to deal with whatever's waiting at the bottom. Easy. Right.