Round 82

Seraphine's sharp eyes widened as she stared across the chasm at Jeane, her mind reeling from the sorcerer's blunt assessment of Merrin's fate. The memory of Merrin’s fall flashed through her thoughts—the sudden impact, the jarring pain as a dead weight slammed into her. Forty-nine rounds ago? That meant... Her calculations were quick but brutal: in round forty-nine, Merrin had fallen to her death. Died plummeting into that abyss below. She shook her head, trying to banish the image. No point dwelling on it—she couldn't change what had happened.

The stone floor beneath her feet shifted again, a low groan echoing through the chamber that sounded disturbingly like a beast in pain. This entire room is alive—badly—and getting worse by the minute, she muttered, her sharp eyes scanning every inch of the ancient architecture for signs of structural failure or hidden traps. We need to move fast before this whole damn place collapses on our heads—or something far worse emerges from whatever hellhole Merrin's found herself in.

Below, Jeane paused mid-argument with the bound spirit, her crimson eyes widening as she noticed the same ominous creaking sound filtering up through the floor. Seraphine? The whole chamber is— Her words cut off as a section of the ceiling above her head suddenly crumbled, sending a shower of dust and stone fragments raining down around them.

Seraphine reacted instantly, throwing herself sideways to avoid being crushed by a falling beam that slammed into the ground where she'd stood moments before. I told you idiots to stop shaking the damn platform! She snarled, scrambling back to her feet with barely a moment's pause. The adrenaline rush of near-miss death kept her movements sharp and focused as she scanned the chamber for more immediate threats.

The dust settled slowly, revealing a scene of increasing chaos. More cracks spiderwebbed across the stone walls, ominous groans echoing from deeper within the structure. Something was very wrong here—far worse than mere structural instability. This whole place is coming down, Seraphine realized with growing dread. And whatever's holding it up... is dying.

Jeane, meanwhile, found herself pressed against the wall opposite the collapsed beam, her heart pounding in her chest. The bound spirit floated nearby, seemingly unperturbed by the sudden disaster—its coal-black eyes fixed on Jeane with an intensity that made her skin crawl. What the fuck was happening? Was this the spirit's doing? Or something else entirely?

The ground shifted again, more violently this time. Seraphine barely managed to keep her footing as a section of floor near the platform began to crumble away. Shit! She lunged forward, grabbing onto a sturdy-looking stone outcropping just as the ground gave way beneath her. The platform Merrin had fallen through was now completely exposed—a gaping hole leading down into darkness.

This is bad, Seraphine thought, her mind racing as she clung to the edge of the crumbling floor. Real bad. She glanced back at Jeane, seeing the sorcerer pressed against the wall, looking equally alarmed. We need to get out of here—now! Before this whole place turns into a pile of rubble!

But even as she spoke, another section of ceiling gave way with a sickening groan. A massive stone block plummeted downwards, straight towards the hole where Merrin had fallen. Seraphine watched in horror as the heavy slab disappeared into the darkness below—followed immediately by a muffled scream that echoed up from the abyss.

Merrin! The name escaped her lips before she could stop it. Oh gods, what have you done?