Round 45

Magic crackles through the air, Seraphine’s spellwork visible for an instant like frost on glass before shattering. The ground bucks beneath them, stone groaning in protest. Varrika curses, her grip tightening around Merrin as she struggles to keep them both upright.

Seraphine staggers back, one hand pressed against the wall for support. Her eyes are wide with shock and something deeper—fear? anger? “What did you do?” she snaps at Jeane. “We were supposed to be careful!”

The dust thickens, visibility dropping as another section of ceiling gives way with a roar. Something heavy thuds to the floor nearby—a stone block or maybe part of a statue. Seraphine ignores it, her full attention on Merrin.

“Hold still,” she commands, moving closer. “I need to check your head.”