Round 95

The mirrors groaned in unison as the chasm rumbled beneath them, each image warping to reflect something darker than reality. Jeane's reflection flickered, her succubus nature bleeding through before settling back into the face they knew—though now twisted by an expression of genuine alarm. "You see what I'm seeing?" she asked, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "The monster inside us all, wearing its Sunday best."

Merrin's own images multiplied and contorted in the glass, each new horror more monstrous than the last. He felt his stomach churn as he watched himself twist into something else—something ancient and wrong. This wasn't about changing them; it was about showing them what they'd always been.

The ground shifted again, sending a cascade of stone dust raining down from above. Seraphine caught himself against one of the mirrors, his handprint fading almost instantly into something far more disturbing—a face contorted in silent agony. He wasn't ready for this. None of them were. But Halie was still trapped below, and he couldn't abandon her to whatever fate awaited at the bottom of that chasm.

The air crackled with ancient energy, the very stones humming with barely-contained power. They had minutes left—hours if they were lucky—and no idea what awaited them in the depths of this place. But one thing was certain: they couldn't stay here much longer.

Focus, he told himself harshly. Find Merrin and Varrika first. Then worry about facing whatever nightmares these mirrors are trying to show you.