Round 223

Jeane’s fingers dance through the air, weaving intricate patterns as she begins the wind binding incantation. The air around her crackles with electricity, responding to her command. She feels her wings flex instinctively, the muscles tensing as if preparing for flight despite the impossibility of escape in this collapsing tower. "The vortex is forming too fast—if we don't channel it now, all this energy could tear through our circle completely!" Her voice cuts through the howling wind, sharp and urgent. She needs Seraphine’s help, needs her to push back against the stone while she redirects this building storm.

Seraphine feels a jolt of pure panic as Jeane's shout slices through the elemental chaos. Her hands are already moving, fingers tracing complex patterns in the air as she throws every ounce of magical energy into maintaining the platform’s structural integrity and stabilizing the Focus Stone. "The Focus Stone!" She cries out, her voice barely audible over the roar of the wind vortex. Her mind is screaming at her to run, to abandon this insane ritual before they both become a smear on the dungeon floor. But there's no way out, no escape route visible through the swirling dust and debris. So she channels more magic, feeling the familiar burn in her palms as she fights against the sheer force of the energies being channeled through the stone. "We have to balance this or everything will shatter!" The gaunt figure in tattered robes takes another step forward, her coal-black eyes seeming to bore into Seraphine’s very soul. The elf wizard feels a chill run down her spine, a primal fear responding to something ancient and terrible in that ethereal form.