Round 462

The walls' breathing stopped completely—everything except the low pulsing hum growing stronger like a heartbeat counting down seconds until the next adaptation phase. The living stone seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something. Tendrils coiled around Abby's ankles and calves, sliding upward with slow deliberation until they reached her thighs. She gasped as the soft appendages wrapped firmly but not painfully, pulling her legs together and pressing them flush against Silra's back.

The blonde woman's body tensed at the contact, muscles going rigid as she felt Abby's warmth against her spine. The tendrils didn't stop there—they continued their relentless creep upward, bunching the fabric of Abby's convenience store uniform until the hem rode up under her arms, exposing a strip of pale midriff. She whimpered softly but couldn't move, held in place by both the restraints and the sheer terror that paralyzed her muscles.

Silra remained motionless except for her hands, which had clamped over her ears as if trying to block out a sound only she could hear—a sound that seemed to be coming from inside her own skull rather than the walls around them. Her eyes squeezed shut tightly, face contorted in concentration or pain. The bioluminescent fluid in the pool surged once more, forming a churning vortex that pulled at the air around them and made the very stones seem to vibrate.

It wanted something—needed something—and its focus had shifted entirely from Jeane and Halie to this new arrival it could sense through the walls' living tissue. The pulsing hum intensified further, filling the narrow space with a rhythmic thrum that seemed to resonate deep within their chests.