Round 88

The stone passageways breathed in unison again, a slow rhythmic pulsing that made both women's skin crawl despite vastly different biological origins. The walls themselves were alive—or animated by some ancient intelligence too vast to comprehend from within its own flesh—and they clearly marked Silra as the more immediate threat descending into their domain. Her bright teal eyes locked onto Jeane across the chamber, maintaining maximum distance while her dark veins crawled visibly toward elbow and wrist, consuming another two percent coverage in just minutes since their last update. The cold was advancing faster than predicted, her fingers already losing functional dexterity as permanent nerve damage progressed beyond what even divine magic could fully repair.

Jeane maintained her position near the chamber's edge, flame barely visible in the pulsing fungal light that seemed to feed on their distress. Splitting the party played directly into whatever waited downstairs, but maintaining proximity meant accelerating Silra's corruption through physical contact—either way, they were dancing between two threats without good options. Her crimson eyes tracked every movement across the room as she whispered a silent prayer for Halie's protection against mental assaults that had already begun seeping through the walls' breathing patterns.

The grinding noise grew louder from below, some ancient mechanism preparing to collapse the passages between them. They needed to move, and they needed to move now—downward into whatever waited with open arms and hungry walls that pulsed faster with each passing second.