Round 50

The chamber rumbled again, a low groan that seemed to come from the very bones of the earth itself. Merrin lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, her head throbbing in time with each rumble. Her vision swam, focusing and blurring as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. The last thing she remembered was... what? Serrine's voice cut through the haze like a blade. "Hold still," the priestess commanded, her hands already moving to examine Merrin’s head. "I need to check your injuries." Merrin winced as Serrine’s fingers probed gently at her scalp, the cool touch a stark contrast to the heat radiating from the ward seal behind them.

Something heavy—a stone block or perhaps a fallen statue—hits the ground nearby with a resounding thud. Seraphine pays the collapsing structure no mind, her full attention focused on Merrin. She moves closer, her expression concerned as she kneels beside the prone rogue. “Hold still,” she commands, her hands already moving to examine Merrin’s head. “I need to check your injuries.” Merrin winces as Seraphine’s fingers probe gently at her scalp, the cool touch a stark contrast to the heat radiating from the ward seal behind them.

I’m fine, Merrin mumbles, though her voice lacks conviction. Her head throbs with each movement, the world spinning sickeningly around her. The last thing she remembered was... what? Serrine’s face swims into focus above her, eyes narrowed in concentration as she examines the wound on Merrin’s scalp. What happened? Merrin tries again, her voice a little stronger this time.

Seraphine’s expression darkens slightly. “You tell me,” she says, her tone sharp. “One moment you were casting that spell, and the next...” She trails off, glancing meaningfully at the unstable ward seal behind them. The air around it shimmers with an ominous blue glow, runic markings pulsing like a heartbeat. Merrin follows her gaze, her stomach sinking as she realizes the full extent of what she’s done.

I... I don’t know, Merrin admits, her voice barely above a whisper. She tries to sit up, but Serrine gently pushes her back down. “Don’t move yet,” the priestess warns. “You might have internal injuries.” Merrin complies reluctantly, her eyes never leaving the ward seal. The runes pulse faster now, and something moves within the blue glow—a shadowy form that seems to be struggling against the confines of the magic.

What is that? Merrin asks, her voice barely audible over the rumble of shifting stone. Serrine’s expression tightens. “I don’t know,” she admits, her eyes fixed on the writhing shape within the seal. “But whatever it is, it doesn’t look friendly.”