Round 202 Transcript

As Abby reaches out to touch the stone altar, the walls' pulsing rhythm accelerates, and their breathing pattern synchronizes with her heartbeat. The air seems to thicken, and the symbols on the metal door begin to glow with a faint, malevolent light. The vibration from the floor intensifies, causing the tendrils to writhe and twist around the chamber's edges. Consequence: Abby's hand is engulfed by the tendrils, their icy grip wrapping around her wrist like a vice. She cries out in pain as the walls' synchronized breathing pattern creates a low-frequency hum that resonates through her entire body. New detail: The symbols on the metal door start to rearrange themselves, spelling out a single word in a language none of them recognize. Immediate pressure: As Abby struggles to free herself, the walls begin to move closer, their surfaces rippling and flexing like living tissue. The hum grows louder, and the tendrils tighten their grip, threatening to drag her towards the metal door.

I feel the walls shifting around me—something has changed in the rhythm of their breathing pattern. The synchronization feels deliberate now, almost like they're coordinating with each other instead of just adapting independently. I stumble forward, my vision nearly gone but still able to make out flashes of movement through what little sight remains. My left hand spasms as I try to channel another burst of divine magic—it barely responds now, the corruption spreading too quickly even for my faith to combat it fully. Every pulse of the walls sends another wave of cold through me, and I can feel my consciousness starting to fragment at the edges. But then I hear Abby's cry, a sound that cuts through the pulsing rhythm like a knife through flesh. I force myself to focus, to push back against the corruption just long enough to understand what's happening: she's trapped now, pulled towards something on the far side of the chamber. I try to move faster, but my body refuses cooperation—I'm barely keeping upright as it is, let alone maintaining coordinated movement. The walls around me seem to sense my distress, their pulses quickening in response as if eager for whatever comes next. "Hera!" I call out, my voice strained and weak even to my own ears. "We need you back here—Abby's trapped and I can't move fast enough alone."