Round 48

The chamber's ancient stone groans like a living thing in its death throes. Halie clutches the rope until her knuckles show white bone through stretched skin, every pull sending fresh fire into her palms. The coarse fibers bite deep, drawing thin lines of blood that mix with sweat and strain. "Merrin! Answer me!" Her voice echoes off the walls, a desperate cry in the oppressive silence.

Jeane stands frozen for a moment, her crimson eyes wide with shock. Then she whirls around, her dark wings unfurling in an instinctive protective gesture. "What just happened?" she demands, her voice sharp with both fear and anger. She takes a step towards the edge of the catwalk where Merrin fell, but stops short as the wood groans ominously beneath her weight.

In the center of the chamber, the bound spirit watches the chaos unfold with an expression that seems almost amused. Her tattered robes swirl around her despite the lack of any visible wind, and her pale fingers twitch with barely contained malevolence.