Round 250

The stones ground together with wet friction as the passage widened before them, revealing a chamber that pulsed with wrong geometry. Hera stumbled forward, her shoulder catching the wall hard—impact jolting through her body like electricity, leaving her breathless for several seconds. When vision cleared, she saw it: walls stretching impossibly wide, symbols bleeding light across the living stone surface, and worst of all—the floor ahead divided by a grid of pressure plates. Each tile waited like teeth in a maw, ready to snap shut around careless feet. The air here tasted wrong—sweet and rotten at once, thick with anticipation that curdled Hera's stomach.