Round 132

Seraphine’s voice rises and falls in a rhythmic chant as she begins weaving her spell, each syllable carefully constructed to resonate with the ancient magic trapped within these walls. The air crackles around them, charged with arcane energy that makes Jeane’s skin prickle. As the elf scholar works, the runes on the walls pulse brighter, their patterns shifting and twisting in time with her incantation.

Jeane watches intently, her crimson eyes tracking every gesture and word. The sorceress knows better than to interrupt a working spell mid-cast—one wrong syllable could collapse the entire structure or worse. She settles for pacing nearby, keeping her wings half-spread for quick reaction time should anything go awry.

The chanting builds towards a crescendo as Seraphine draws upon every ounce of her magical expertise. Her fingers weave complex patterns in the air, leaving trails of shimmering energy that dance and twist before fading. The runes on the walls seem to lean closer, their light intensifying until it’s almost painful to look at directly.

With a final sharp gesture and a harsh word, Seraphine completes the spell. The magical energy condenses into a visible thread of pure power stretching between her outstretched hand and the center of the chamber. For a moment, nothing happens—then the air shimmers violently where the thread connects, and a figure begins to form.

Jeane steps forward instinctively, her hand moving towards her weapon before she forces herself to stand down. The entity taking shape is clearly not mortal—a tall woman in tattered robes, her skin deathly pale and her eyes pools of utter blackness. A bound spirit, just as the rumors suggested. And from the malevolent aura already radiating from it, one that’s none too pleased with its long imprisonment.

Seraphine takes a half-step back, her voice dropping to a tense whisper. Well. That was definitely something. She glances at Jeane, then back at the spirit now fully manifest. Now what?