Round 343

The stone passageways breathed in unison, their rhythmic pattern suddenly breaking as the walls themselves seemed to hold their breath. The air hummed with anticipation, pulsing like a heartbeat counting down seconds until the next phase of this nightmare. Silra's grip on your hand tightened, her skin fever-hot against yours, and you could see the sickly green glow creeping up her arms—signs of the corruption taking hold faster now that you'd entered these living tunnels.

"We need to move," she hissed urgently, her yellow eyes fixed on the dark opening that had just appeared in the wall behind you both. "That passage... it's not natural. Something's calling us down." Her voice barely above a whisper still cut through the ambient horror. But even as she spoke of separation for your safety, her fingers intertwined more tightly with yours, refusing to let go.

The walls had stopped their synchronized breathing—everything except that low pulsing hum growing stronger. Three hours. That's how long Silra had before the corruption consumed her completely. And each second ticking by in these living halls probably shaved minutes off that timeline.