Round 387

The walls' breathing stopped in perfect unison, every inch of living stone going still except for that low pulsing hum that seemed to vibrate through my bones now. Three hours. The timeline had just accelerated by nearly a third, each minute becoming more precious and terrifying than the last.

The creature at the bottom of the stairs leaned forward, its dark eyes seeming to absorb what little light remained in the space. "Open yourself," it hissed again, the words wrapping around my thoughts like smoke tendrils. The command felt less like choice and more like...

The bioluminescent fluid coating me pulsed with the walls' rhythm, each beat making the substance cling tighter instead of drying or flaking away as it should have done. I couldn't even wipe it off—my hands were still trapped inside that invisible grip, useless against whatever was happening to us both.

Three hours until Silra was completely consumed, and I had no idea how to stop it. The walls' sudden stillness wasn't rest; it was something worse. Like a predator holding its breath before striking.