Round 98

The stone walls ground together with mechanical precision, closing millimeter by millimeter around the trapped women. Translucent patches spread across Silra's arms like living frostbite, iridescent edges crawling toward her shoulders while her teal eyes track every movement in the narrowing gap between them.

Jeane’s flame magic flickered at barely 15% output, the barrier around them struggling against the intelligent corruption that seeped through every crack in this ancient stone passageway. The walls themselves breathed now, living tissue moving beneath the stone facade as they closed inch by inch toward each other.

Silra grabbed Jeane's arm again despite the transmission acceleration because this was literally their only option before the walls crushed them both completely—her calculations still stood: they could execute containment strategy in six seconds if they moved immediately with coordinated timing. The grinding noise intensified as mechanical pressure mounted, hydraulic fluid hissing between plates designed for maximum efficiency.

The walls' synchronized breathing stopped completely—everything except that low pulsing hum growing stronger like heartbeat counting down to impact.