Round 67 Transcript

Jeane drags Hera into the hallway bathroom, shoving her toward Abby in the corner. The air is thick with tension as Jeane orders Silra to stay back from the wardstone. The elf woman hesitates, her eyes fixed on the pulsating energy emanating from the stone. Water pours from the broken shower stall, flooding the floor and creating a slippery surface. Abby presses herself against the cold tile wall, her eyes wide with fear. Hera's hands tremble as she clings to the edge of the bathtub, her gaze darting between Jeane and the wardstone. The sound of groaning metal and concrete breaking echoes through the hallway, growing louder with each passing moment. The pressure is building, and it's clear that the bathroom will soon be overwhelmed by the structural collapse.

The building shudders around us—Halie's fingers curl against the tile wall. We can't stay trapped together like this. The wardstone pulses faster with every breath we take in its presence. Jeane, get Hera and Abby to safety down the hall. Silra, I'll try to stabilize the wardstone energy—keep your distance or it'll feed off your fear too.

I drag Hera by her arm into the hallway bathroom across from my suite door. Her skin is cold beneath my hand and she's shaking harder now. The wardstone pulses again—faster—and the whole building groans in reply. "Silra," I snap, turning back toward the master bedroom where I left our rogue fiddling with the cursed thing on the nightstand, "stay away from it." My breasts feel heavy beneath my shirt, a low simmer of arousal mixing with the fear that's trying to take hold. I push Hera toward the toilet seat and crouch down eye-level. "You're safe here," I say, though my gut twists at how hollow those words sound. The building shudders again, harder this time. Dust trickles from the ceiling in a thin gray stream that catches the light filtering through the bathroom window—a window facing the long drop to New York street level. We are so high up. "Abby," I call out to where she's huddled by the bathtub, "come sit with Hera." The floor beneath me feels too cold and too thin. I press my palm flat against it—concrete over steel—but it doesn't comfort me the way it should. The wardstone is breathing in time with Silra's movements as she traces its edges. I need to see what she's doing, but every step toward that bedroom feels like walking into a trap. The wardstone answers our presence with fresh pulses of energy each time we get closer—it knows we're here and it wants something from us. Something I'm not willing to give.

My heart hammers in my chest as I press myself back against the cold tile wall of the bathroom, water from the broken shower stall sloshing around my feet. The building groans ominously overhead, and I can feel the wardstone pulsing with energy just beyond the door.

Abby huddles in the corner, her eyes wide with fear. I want to comfort her, but I'm too terrified myself. Jeane and Silra are out there somewhere, trying to keep us all alive, but I have no idea how we're going to survive this.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. We can't just sit here and wait to die. There has to be something we can do.