More Rooms, More Blood: Wanda - Meet Floor.

For the second time that evening, Wanda's hands and the lantern parted company.

For a split second, Wanda sensed the change in the dynamic of the group. Without knowing why, she realised that something was wrong.

Kirsten ploughed into her long before she would ever know what it was.

And now, as sudden adrenaline ran riot through her system, time slowed. She watched the gentle arc of the lantern as it plotted its journey upwards. At the same time, she became aware of her feet, now at the bottom of her vision. They had left the floor and splayed outwards, her body folding around Kirsten's all-encompassing presence as the two sailed backwards through the air.

Was there shouting? It sounded like there was some shouting. Had she the time, Wanda would have laughed. How detached she felt from proceedings.

The lantern struck the ceiling. Wanda made out the distant tinkling of broken glass - it sounded muffled, like it was under a blanket. Gouts of flame rained from above.

Sudden light. Sudden darkness.

Their combined forms crunched into stone, air bursting from Wanda's lungs as they yielding to Kirsten's shoulder. The sudden expulsion was followed by urgent, shuddering gasps, as Wanda tried desperately to claw air back into her system. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Through blurred vision, she could just discern the silhouette of the elf leaping forward in the light of Kirsten's discarded torch, bow forward like a lance.

Rage filled Wanda. She wanted to scream, to shout abuse at Kirsten and the group. The lack of air and dreadful weight on her chest conspired against her, her quivering lips emitting nothing other than a mewling yelp.

What the hell just happened?