Round 8 Transcript

I stand back from the gate, my heart hammering against my ribs as I watch the runes dance and shift under Halie's touch. The air crackles with an ancient energy, thick and oppressive, unlike anything I've ever felt before in my studies of forbidden lore. It feels alive, watching us, weighing us for its own dark purposes. My gaze flicks to Jeane’s scorched arm, a stark reminder of what this power can do when crossed.
I take a slow, deliberate breath, forcing myself to focus despite the fear coiling in my gut. This is what we came for—to seek out the Time-Splitting Sword—but at what cost? The risks feel higher now, more tangible. I meet Jeane's eyes, seeing the same grim determination there that mirrors my own.
My hand drifts to the heavy tome of ancient runes tucked into my satchel. Its cover feels warm beneath my fingers, almost alive with the same malevolent intelligence as the gate itself. With a decisive motion, I pull it free and flip through the pages until I find what I’m looking for—a rune sequence that might, just might, offer some protection against this hungry magic.
I clear my throat, my voice emerging steadier than I feel. "Sisters, if we're to proceed, we must first shield ourselves. This gate demands a price, and I believe I have found a way to pay it... in kind." I hold up the book, its pages glowing faintly in the dim light of the torches. The runes on the gate seem to shiver at the sight, as if recognizing a potential foe.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I must do next. It will take every ounce of my skill and power—and it may not be enough. But we have no choice now; the die is cast. The gate has awakened, and it wants to keep us here. One way or another, we must find a path through before it decides to swallow us whole.*

I step closer to Halie, my movements deliberate and controlled despite the pain still singing along my arm. The runes have shifted again—now they form warnings I can almost read, dark promises of what lies beyond this threshold. Sister Halie, your faith is admirable but misplaced here. My voice is silk over iron. This gate doesn't want guidance; it wants obedience to its ancient masters' commands. I trace the glowing patterns with my unburned hand, feeling the magic pulse like a living heartbeat beneath the stone. These runes aren't mere locks—they're tests designed to separate the worthy from the foolish. A small smile touches my lips, sharp and knowing. And we are clearly being found... wanting. The burns on my arm flare with renewed heat as I press closer, but I don't flinch. Sisters, listen carefully. The magic of this place is already tasting our intentions—the gate knows we're here for the sword. My eyes meet Seraphine's over the shifting symbols. Every moment we linger is a moment it learns more about us. We need to pass through before it understands exactly what we are... and what we fear. I draw my heavy mace, the familiar weight a comfort in this hostile space. I will not be caged by dead sorcerers' tricks. The runes hiss as if offended by my presence alone. Merrin, prepare your crossbow—if anything emerges from those shadows after we pass, we need to be ready to strike first and ask questions of corpses later. With a flick of my free hand, I summon a small flame that dances above my palm—a sign of my own power, a counter to the darkness seeping from the stone. We proceed on my signal. Halie, you've done well to awaken it, but now we must face whatever consequences await those who would defy its purpose. I fix each companion with a steady gaze in turn. Are we agreed? Or do I lead alone? My intention is clear: assert dominance over the ancient magic, demonstrate my control despite the pain, and force a decision. The cost is accepting more direct confrontation rather than continued stalling. This settles who leads when time is of the essence—me—and clarifies that hesitation will be seen as weakness by the gate's hungry intelligence.