Round 236

The walls' breathing stopped, and something worse took its place: a low pulse, rhythmic and deliberate, like a heartbeat counting down seconds until whatever waited below made its move. Hera's jaw clenched, teeth grinding audibly as she watched the fluid pool higher—midcalf now, climbing with each passing breath. The carvings above pulsed in sync with the walls' rhythm, faces contorting into expressions that spoke of hunger and something worse, something that fed on desperation and fear.

She could feel it spreading again, ice crystals forming in her bloodstream as the paralysis crept up her left arm. Ten seconds. Twenty. She'd lost count how many times this had happened now, each exposure making the corruption stronger, more resistant to her efforts. The oil had bought them maybe thirty seconds of breathing room before the walls adapted and countered—clever fuckers learned fast.

Abby's hand squeezed back, grounding her even as panic clawed at her throat. They couldn't stay here. Couldn't split up. Couldn't touch each other too long or the corruption would spread faster. But moving meant stepping deeper into this fucking maze, and every turn brought new horrors, new traps, new ways for whatever was downstairs to pick them off one by one.

Hera's eyes darted around the narrowing passage, searching for options that didn't exist. The walls were too close now, breathing together in unison, creating a tunnel of flesh and stone that funneled them forward. Twelve meters. That was the radius she needed to maintain around Jeane—any closer and the corruption would jump, any further and they'd lose formation.

"Abby," she said, voice tight with barely controlled panic, "we need to move. Now." Each word felt like it took effort, her tongue thick and sluggish from the spreading ice in her veins. She took a tentative step forward, feeling the fluid slosh around her ankles, climbing higher with every heartbeat pulse from the walls.

They had maybe two minutes before whatever was downstairs made its next move. Maybe less. And Hera knew, deep in her bones, that they were running out of time to solve this problem—the corruption was winning, and it was winning fast.