Round 177

The stone corridor's transformation accelerates visibly as the rhythmic humming intensifies, pulsing through the very rock. Halie's fingers hesitate mere centimeters from the glowing seam in the wall—her right hand now a grotesque sculpture of corrupted flesh, twitching with a mind of its own. The grinding pressure plates below her feet seem to sense her indecision, shifting ominously closer together. Jeane hovers above, arcane strain evident in every labored wingbeat, her flame resistance visibly weakening by the second—43% remaining according to her internal countdown. The walls have stopped their synchronized breathing completely now replaced by this low pulsing hum that vibrates through the stone itself growing stronger with each passing heartbeat. It's almost hypnotic quality makes concentration difficult even for someone used to arcane strain—Jeane grits her teeth against the urge to descend and help Halie manually, knowing physical contact would mean instant corruption spread through her own exposed skin. The corridor feels like it's breathing around them now, walls pulsing with each beat of that unseen thing's heart...