Round 111

Jeane’s voice cut through the oppressive silence of the chamber like a knife. "Seraphine! Stop!" The tall winged woman stood silhouetted against the green light spilling up from the depths, her expression stern and worried. Seraphine could see her clutching her staff tightly, ready to cast whatever protective magic she knew. But the elf scholar was already too far down the crumbling platform, each step a gamble on stone that groaned ominously beneath her weight. The air grew colder as she descended further, her breath misting white before her face. Each chunk of stone that gave way underfoot sent a fresh jolt of adrenaline through her veins—tumbling into the darkness below held no appeal whatsoever. "Stay close," she hissed to Halie, who followed a few steps behind. "And be ready for anything." Her gaze darted between the treacherous footing and the yawning chasm, taking in every detail: the intricate binding circles pulsing with malevolent light, the ancient symbols etched into the stone floor, the sheer drop into the yawning chasm.