Round 79 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.

I grab a bottle of lube and quickly twist off the cap as I crouch down next to Silra. "Here, we can use this too," I say, my hands shaking slightly as I pour some of the slippery fluid onto the growing stack of bottles. The liquid seeps into the cracks between them, hopefully helping to hold everything together when - or rather, if - the building starts to come down on top of us.

I grab Hera's wrist before she can pour more lube on those bottles—we need them slick for leverage, not slippery enough to slide apart under pressure. The wardstone pulses faster now, like a drumbeat counting down seconds. "Stop. Think," I snap at her, then at Silra: "That barricade won't hold concrete and rebar if the floor gives way—we need something structural." My wings twitch instinctively, wanting to take flight from this collapsing tomb, but there's nowhere to go except maybe through that wardstone itself. "We stack everything heavy—dresser, toilet tank empty first—and brace it against the door frame," I decide aloud. "Halie, pray for structural integrity if you want, but we build a physical wall." The building groans overhead like a whale dying of thirst. "Move."

I push harder against the barricade of lube bottles, feeling the wardstone pulse through the door like a diseased heart. The floor tilts under us and I know we have seconds before this whole building comes down. "Hera! Get in the shower stall—it's our best chance if the ceiling caves!" My voice cracks with fear but I force it steady. Can't let them hear how terrified I am.