Round 95

The bathroom had become a chamber of perverse ritual, the wardstone's energy pulsing in sync with Hera's movements on the sybian. Each throb sent fresh tremors through the already groaning structure, concrete dust raining down as the building screamed around them. Halie pressed her full weight against the makeshift barricade—her hands flat against the heavy mirror frame, muscles straining to hold it in place—but with each pulse, the wood seemed to lean fractionally toward the source of corruption beyond the door.

Silra grabbed Halie's shoulder and yanked her back from the door frame. "If that mirror slides another inch, we're done," she snapped, scanning the bathroom for anything else heavy enough to brace it properly. The wardstone answered their desperation with a fresh pulse through the stone—its energy bleeding out into the room despite the barrier between them. Each throb seemed to loosen another screw in the building's already compromised structure.

Halie shifted her grip on the mirror frame, trying to redistribute her weight more effectively. "I can't hold this much longer," she admitted, sweat beading on her forehead as she fought against both the wardstone's pull and the simple physics of leverage. The wood groaned ominously with each pulse, splinters flying as it flexed outward. "We need something else here—something heavy that won't slip." Her eyes darted to Hera still positioned near the wardstone, amber eyes wide with fear but determined.

Hera's breathing came in short gasps as she worked the sybian, each movement answered by a fresh pulse from the stone beneath her. The energy seemed to flow through her body now—her skin flushed, muscles tensing and relaxing in sync with the machine's rhythm. She glanced up at Halie struggling with the door barricade, then back down at the wardstone. "This won't hold forever," she called out, voice strained. "The whole building is coming down." Another groan from overhead punctuated her words—a sound like ancient wood giving up its last strength.

Silra found a heavy-looking metal trash can in the corner and dragged it over, setting it against the door frame opposite Halie. "This should help," she said, though even she sounded uncertain. The wardstone pulsed again, stronger than before, and the entire bathroom seemed to shake with it—the mirror frame creaking louder, water splashing from the broken shower stall, something shifting ominously in the walls beyond. They were running out of time—and options.