Round 65 Transcript

At bathroom in a New York high rise penthouse suite, the pressure shifts from waiting to immediate risk. The ward answers the party's presence with a fresh pulse through the stone and no one can mistake it for safety. The nearest sign of danger is now structural collapse imminent. Someone has to answer that change now.

The sounds from outside the bathroom door are terrifying—the groans of twisting metal, the shriek of concrete breaking, and the dull thuds that could be anything falling from above. My heart hammers against my ribs as I press myself back against the cold tile wall, trying to make myself as small and quiet as possible. Hera is crouched beside me, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear. She reaches out a trembling hand and takes mine, squeezing it tightly.
"I'm scared," she whispers, her voice so faint it's almost lost in the chaos. I give her hand a gentle squeeze back, trying to offer some small comfort even though my own insides are churning with terror. Jeane has locked us in here, away from whatever is happening out there, but right now this little room feels more like a tomb than a sanctuary. The water from the broken shower stall has started to pool around our feet, cold and rising fast. Every drop seems to echo the frantic pounding of my own heart.*

I trace the wardstone's edges while the building groans overhead like a dying whale. This stone isn't just old—it has teeth and intent. The bathroom walls feel thin now, too fragile for our combined weight even before we add Jeane's temper to the mix. "Get Hera and Abby into the hallway bathroom," I tell Jeane sharply over my shoulder as I work. "Now. And keep them calm—the fear is feeding this thing." I don't wait for her to argue before adding, "I'm not letting you turn this place into a war zone with half-cocked magic again."

The stone pulses against my fingertips when I touch it—definitely alive and definitely pissed off about something. Or hungry for more.

I watch the water flooding from the shower stall and feel the building lurch again. That wardstone is alive—I can taste its hunger now—and Silra's right, touching it would be suicide. The walls here feel too thin, the floor ready to give way. Hera's staring at me like I'm supposed to fix everything with a spell or something. She doesn't understand what we're dealing with. I grab her arm and pull her toward the bathroom door. "Move," I snap. "Now." Her fear is making my skin crawl—too much panic in the air feeds that stone. Silra's tracing its edges, and Halie's just standing there looking confused. Fine. If nobody else is going to make a decision, I will. "Hera, Abby, get down the hall into the bathroom we just came from," I order. "Jeane, what are you learning?" The question hangs there—too much curiosity for someone who should be running. I don't have time for stupid questions right now.