Round 87 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 wardstone pulses again, harder this time, and I feel the floor shift under my feet like the building is breathing wrong. The barricade of lube bottles we built seems pathetic now—plastic sliding against plastic as water seeps around them. I can't lose Hera and Abby to this. Can't let Jeane's demon nature make me hesitate when she needs me to help brace that door. My hands are already on the wardrobe, pushing it heavy and awkward across the slick floor tiles. "I'm here," I tell her, though my voice catches with the effort of moving furniture and fear. "Tell me where you need me."

The sexual energy from before still clings to everything—the air tastes like sweat and sin—and I try to shove that feeling down deep where it won't distract me when we're about to die in a collapsing building while sitting on a wardstone.

I watch in horror as Jeane struggles to maintain her barrier spell, the heavy dresser groaning ominously against the splintering doorframe. The wardstone pulses again, its energy seeping into my bones like a frozen claw.
My heart hammers in my chest, each beat a frantic prayer that this won't end badly. Hera's voice cuts through the chaos, asking for help, but Halie seems hesitant.
I can see the fear etched on Hera’s face, the way her eyes dart from the wardstone to the crumbling walls. Silra speaks up, her tone urgent as she questions the strength of the floor between them.
I feel a tremor run through me, a primal dread of what's coming, and what I might have to do to survive it.