Round 200

The stone beneath Halie's palm felt wrong—too warm, too soft in places where it should have been hard and unyielding. Her vision had failed minutes ago, the darkness consuming everything outside her skull, but her other senses screamed warnings her conscious mind struggled to interpret. Every breath the walls took now came with a new layer of horror—she could feel them learning, adapting their structure to better contain its prey. The corruption spread through her in waves, each one carrying more of that alien presence deeper into her flesh and bone.

Her right arm hung useless at her side, the muscles no longer obeying her commands as they rewrote themselves according to something else's blueprint. But her left hand still gripped the stone floor with desperate determination—she needed to document this, needed to leave some record of what happened here even if no one ever found it. The walls' synchronized breathing had stopped, replaced by a low pulsing hum that vibrated through...

Suddenly, Hera's tentacle restraint gave way, and she stumbled forward into the narrow corridor ahead. The pressure on the frozen plates dropped, and the stone floor beneath her shifted ever so slightly, as if the walls were... adapting to her presence already? Halie signaled on pulse three as planned—move forward now while maintaining distance from the walls' expansion points—but Hera's hesitation was palpable even through the corruption haze.

The air crackled with tension as Halie channeled what little divine magic she could manage, attempting to cover their retreat while maintaining that critical distance. Every pulse of the walls felt like teeth scraping her consciousness—she couldn't risk spreading this corruption across the entire party. The glow from ahead pulsed with each wall breath—it was getting stronger, more insistent.

I channel what little divine magic I can through stone, covering our retreat while maintaining distance from the walls—can't risk spreading this corruption across the entire party. Every pulse of the walls feels like teeth scraping my consciousness. Hera's free now but exposed—I signal her on pulse three as planned, she moves forward into that narrow corridor where walls have less room to expand outward while we pass through. The glow from ahead pulses with each wall breath—it's getting...

I feel my arm jerk involuntarily as the tentacle restraint gives way, allowing me to stumble forward into the narrow corridor. The walls press close on either side, their pulsing rhythm growing more intense with each breath. I know Halie's signal was for me to move on pulse three after her cover magic, but it feels too early, too exposed. But Abby is counting on us to create that unpredictable pattern, to keep the walls from adapting completely.

Every fiber of my being screams to run, to put as much distance between myself and these walls as possible before the corruption spreads further. But that would leave Halie alone down here with this thing—she's barely holding on as it is, her magic visibly straining against whatever's eating her from the inside out. And Abby needs us both at full strength for what comes next.

So I take a deep breath and push forward, my boots scraping against stone as I force myself into motion. The walls press closer with each pulse, their surface shifting subtly beneath the flickering light from ahead.