Round 105

Silra's fingers dance across her interface, the teal glow from her equipment casting stark shadows across her face in the sudden darkness. "I can hold this air pocket for maybe another minute—two if we're lucky—but the water pressure is already straining my magic." She doesn't look up at Jeane, eyes fixed on the flickering displays that only she can fully comprehend. The sound of rushing water grows louder, and the air fills with the acrid smell of ozone as the floodwaters surge through the shaft, threatening to overwhelm them both. Jeane shifts her weight carefully, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slick metal surface of the catwalk above them. She can feel the water lapping at her thighs now, cold and insistent, and the structure above them groans again—a sound that makes her stomach clench with dread. "You've got three minutes," she calls down to Silra, voice tight. "Maybe four if we're lucky. The water pressure's building—feels like something massive is shifting in the main tunnel system upstream."