Round 225

The air in the ancient stone corridor shudders with each pulse of the walls' synchronized breathing, the sound growing more insistent by the second. The greenish glow under the stone surfaces intensifies with every exhalation, casting flickering shadows that dance across Halie's face as she collapses to her knees near the opposite wall. Her body trembles violently now, divine aura flickering like a candle flame in wind as the corruption spreads through her torso and down her left arm—coordination already shot, grip on her makeshift club weakening by the moment. She manages to choke out a single word between spasms: "Patterns..." before her voice trails off into a gurgle.

I need to document this. Every pulse, every shift in breathing rhythm, every change in wall texture or color—it's all data that could save them if I can just maintain consciousness long enough to pass it on. The walls are learning from our tactics, adapting their approach with terrifying speed. If I let myself be consumed without warning the others... No. Focus. Count the pulses. One... two... three... Shit, lost count already—concentration slipping faster than I thought possible. Gotta keep trying.

My vision blurs and darkens at the edges as the cold spreads through my chest, wrapping around my heart like ice. Can't breathe right—lungs constricting as if squeezed in a vise. But I can still see the walls shifting shape between pulses, watching as fresh tendrils of living stone push outwards from the main surface. They're reaching for Hera now, extending toward her position with unnatural speed. She's trying to back away but there's nowhere left to retreat in this narrow corridor. Abby's frozen in place behind her, eyes wide with terror as she watches the horror unfold.

This is bad. Real bad. Can't let them split up—separate targets are exactly what whatever's controlling these walls wants. Need to maintain formation somehow... Or at least buy time for Silra and Jeane to catch up from downstairs. But how? My magic isn't working, body's barely responsive, and every second counts. Fuck.