Round 30

The chamber rumbled again, more ominously this time, as if the very stone were groaning under some immense strain. Dust motes swirled in the air, caught in beams of flickering torchlight that seemed too weak to penetrate the encroaching shadows. Seraphine stood at the edge of the newly formed pit, her sharp elven eyes scanning the darkness below where Jeane had vanished moments before. She could feel it—the wards were shattered, their magic bleeding out like spilled ink into the surrounding stone. Every instinct screamed at her to retreat, to put distance between herself and whatever ancient evils lay waiting in those depths.

Varrika moved up beside her, sword held ready, face set in grim lines. "How long do we wait?" she asked, voice low. Serrine shifted nervously behind them, still cradling Merrin's unconscious form close. Seraphine didn't answer immediately, her attention divided between the abyss below and the ominous groaning of stone all around them. The magic was wrong here—she could feel it in her bones, a corruption that seeped into the very air like poison.

A fresh rumble echoed up from below, followed by the unmistakable sound of something large moving through rubble. Seraphine's heart hammered in her chest at the realization that whatever had been bound down there was now free to roam—and they were trapped between it and the collapsing tower above.