Round 52

The wardstone pulses like a heart on the edge of failure. The structure is delicate—too delicate for what Jeane has in mind. Hera, the wardstone isn't asking for your consent—it's demanding tribute, and if we don't provide it soon, this building will come down around our ears. I'm not volunteering myself, but if someone creates enough chaos to overload its sensors temporarily, I might be able...

Silra's movements around the stone are frantic, almost manic. She's trying to find a weakness, a loophole, but I know that's futile. This isn't a puzzle to be solved; it’s a primal force imposing its will upon us.

My gaze lands on Hera again. She looks so small standing before Jeane, yet there's an undeniable strangeness in her eyes—a flicker of something ancient and hungry.