Round 93

The walls breathed together in unison, a low rhythmic sound that was less natural than calculated. Each exhale seemed to pulse the fungal growths covering their surfaces, while the sweet-sick scent grew heavier with every passing moment. Silra moved through the narrow space like a predator stalking prey—except her prey was the walls themselves, and she needed to maintain distance at all costs.

"I'm maintaining three-meter radius," Silra reported softly, tapping her knee twice in sharp succession. "Walls' breathing pattern accelerated again. That wasn't random—someone or something is testing our response times specifically." Her teal eyes never left the shifting stone as she backed away carefully, each movement precise and measured despite the growing panic evident beneath her controlled surface.

Jeane held the Starheart fragments out at arm's length, her crimson eyes scanning every surface for signs of corruption. The sweet-sick stench was almost overwhelming now, but she forced herself to breathe shallowly through her mouth. "No visible contamination," she said, voice tight with anxiety. "But the ambient magic here is... wrong. My flame can barely maintain coherence, and that shouldn't happen even in a heavily corrupted zone."

The grinding noise from below grew louder, a mechanical sound that spoke of gears engaging and pressure building. Silra's expression remained neutral, but her free hand twitched—her palm wound was spreading, dark veins visible beneath her pale skin as the corruption crept further up her forearm. "Sixteen minutes," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "I need to maintain distance until we reach safe space."

Jeane nodded, flame guttering dangerously as she adjusted her grip on the fragments. "Stay focused," she said. "We move together, watch each other's backs, and don't let this place separate us." The walls pulsed again in unison, their breathing pattern shifting to something even more ominous—a countdown that seemed to echo through the very stone around them.