Round 53

Jeane’s words cut through the groaning structure like a knife through flesh, her voice sharp with the kind of desperation that makes people do stupid things. She yanks Hera towards her, ignoring the human woman's startled resistance, and the air between them crackles with an energy that feels both ancient and utterly alien. "You don't have to enjoy it," she snarls, her eyes wild, "just make it convincing enough that thing stops trying to collapse us all." She glares at Silra then, who’s bent over the wardstone in intense concentration—"And you. I didn’t hire your rogue ass for decoration. If you can really overload its sensors with chaos, then do it before I decide this..."

The building moans around them again, a sound like a dying beast, and Abby feels her stomach drop. This is it—the moment of truth, the point where things go from bad to catastrophically worse. Jeane’s plan is insane, but what other options are there? The wardstone pulses again, each beat sending fresh tremors through the floorboards, and Abby knows they’re running out of time. She looks at Hera, sees the fear etched into every line of her face, and feels a pang of something that might be sympathy or terror or both.

Hera’s voice is barely more than a whisper when she speaks—"Please," she says, her words trembling. "There has to be another way." But Jeane’s grip on her arm tightens, her eyes blazing with an intensity that makes Abby flinch instinctively. "There is no other way," she hisses, her patience clearly fraying at the edges. "The wardstone demands tribute, and if we don't give it what it wants, this whole fucking building will come down around our ears."