Round 95 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 shift toward Halie at the door, grab her shoulder—not gently—and pull her back from the frame. "If that mirror slides another inch, we're done. The wardstone can wait—we won't survive this building collapsing on us first." I scan the bathroom again for any other fucking heavy thing to brace the door with. A toilet tank lid? Too flimsy. The shower stall frame? Possibly, if we pry it loose without triggering another flood. "Jeane," I snap, "stop trying to one-up the wardstone with your vibrator symphony and help me think of something solid enough to hold this door shut when the floor decides to become a ramp." Her panic is making her stupid, and I don't have time for stupid right now.

I can't hold this mirror much longer—it's sliding every time the building shifts. We need something heavy in here now. A lot of things are heavy, but not all of them will stay where we put them on a floor covered in slippery water and lubricant. The wardstone pulses faster each time you use that machine, Hera. I understand you're trying to help distract it, but maybe there's another way? We're all trapped together here, and I don't want anyone sliding into the dark corridor just because we can't keep our footing on this wet floor.

The bathroom door creaks ominously as the building groans around us. I brace my feet against the slippery floor, trying to wedge the heavy mirror more securely into place. "This won't hold forever," I call over my shoulder. The wardstone pulses faster, its energy resonating through the stone and into my bones. We're running out of time.