Round 75 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.

Jeane grabs Hera's wrist, yanking her away from the door frame hard enough to make bone crack—her demonic strength misjudging human fragility in panic. Stay back. You're useless anyway. She turns to Silra, voice cold despite the fear lancing through her gut with each wardstone pulse.*

Silra, how tall do we need that barricade? Her breasts feel heavy under her robes, nipples hardening against the fabric—an arousal response she can't control when fear spikes. The building's going to come down in minutes. We need height, not just bulk. She looks at Hera, cowering against the wall, and feels a dark thrill mix with the fear—a protective urge that's more predatory than sisterly. You. Yes, you. Jeane gestures impatiently. Get over here and help stack these bottles. I want them two deep along the base. The wardstone pulses faster now, each beat sending nausea twisting through her insides. If that thing activates, we're all buried under rubble. So move. Now. Unless you want your last moments to be spent drowning in lube while the ceiling collapses on us.

I watch in horror as Jeane yanks me away from the door frame, her eyes wild with fear and something darker. I stumble back, nearly losing my footing on the slippery floor. "What are you doing?" I demand, my voice shaking. Jeane grabs a bottle of lube and tosses it at Silra. "Stack these along the base of the door. Two deep. Now!" Her tone leaves no room for argument. I glance around frantically, my mind racing. The building groans overhead like a dying beast, and I can feel the wardstone's energy pulsing through the floorboards. It's like a malevolent heartbeat, growing stronger with each passing second. "We need to get out of here," I say urgently, trying to push past Jeane. But she grabs my arm, her grip like iron. "You'll die if you go out there," she snarls, shoving me back towards Abby. "The whole damn building is coming down."

I stumble into Abby, and we both nearly fall on the slick floor. The water from the broken shower stall sloshes over our bare feet, and I feel a chill run through me that has nothing to do with the temperature. "Please," I whisper, my voice hoarse with fear. "We have to do something."

Jeane's eyes flicker over to me, and for a moment I see something dark and hungry in their depths. But then she turns away, grabbing another bottle of lube and adding it to the growing pile at the door. "Help her," she barks at Silra, nodding towards Abby. "We need to brace this door if we want to survive."

I look at Abby, my heart pounding in my chest. The wardstone's energy is getting stronger by the second, and I can feel it pulling at me like a physical force. But Jeane's right - going out there now would be suicide. "Okay," I say, taking a deep breath. "Let's brace this door."

I move to help Silra stack the bottles, my hands shaking as I pick them up. The lube is slick and slippery, making it hard to grip. But I force myself to focus, knowing that our lives may depend on how well we build this barricade. As we work, I can't shake the feeling that something is very wrong. Jeane's behavior is erratic, almost manic. And the way she looked at me just now... it sent a chill down my spine. But what choice do we have? We're trapped in here with no way out, and the building is coming down around us. All we can do is brace for impact and pray that whatever happens next won't be too terrible.

I watch Jeane frantically stacking bottles of lubricant into a precarious wall against the bathroom door, the sound of shattering glass and the groaning of metal from outside only spurring her on. My heart pounds in my chest as I try to process what's happening. This was supposed to be a safe place, but now it feels like a tomb waiting to collapse around us.
My eyes dart between Jeane and Hera, who are working together to brace the door. Fear makes me tremble, and I feel completely useless, unable to do anything to help. The wardstone in the center of the room pulses with an ominous red light, its energy seeming to mirror my own frantic heartbeat. "I-I don't know what to do," I stammer out, my voice a faint whisper over the cacophony of destruction.* "Is this going to work? Are we really going to be okay?"