Round 252

The walls shuddered as Hera pressed the plate, the whole chamber seeming to inhale. The adaptive stone rippled outward from her feet like disturbed water, tendrils reaching with grotesque purpose. She bit back a cry as they wrapped around her legs, the material burning cold against her skin—but she didn't retreat. The entity's power pulsed through the walls in visible waves, each wave stronger than the last. Then the walls began to change shape, stone groaning as it flowed and reformed. A narrow tunnel opened up before Hera, leading deeper into the complex.

Meanwhile, Abby stayed frozen twelve meters back, hyperaware of every shift in the architecture. The air grew thick with corruption, sweet and rotten like decaying fruit, making her stomach churn. She could feel it pressing against her skin, trying to seep inside through her pores. Each synchronized breath of the walls made her flinch despite herself. When Hera called out, Abby forced her voice to work: "I'm coming," she whispered, though her feet remained glued to the floor. The distance was necessary—she had seen what happened when that stuff touched someone. She couldn't let it touch her.

The pulsing grew stronger with each beat, and now there was a rhythm to it, like something ancient and hungry counting down the seconds until whatever was happening next began. Abby's eyes darted to Silra, still trapped between the pressure plates, her breathing labored. Three hours. They had maybe three hours left before... She shook her head, refusing to finish that thought. Instead she focused on the tunnel Hera had opened, trying to calculate if she could fit through without touching the walls. The stone seemed to pulse with anticipation, waiting for someone—anyone—to step inside.