Round 109

Halie pressed her weight against the heavy mirror frame bracing the door, feeling every creak and groan of the stressed wood as the building screamed overhead. The wardstone answered with its own pulse, faster now, stronger, each beat shaking the floor beneath their feet like a drum announcing doom. Water leaked from the broken shower stall in one corner, mixing with spilled lubricant to create a treacherous surface that threatened to send them sliding into the very danger they tried to contain. Jeane's hands were pressed against the bathroom door, fingers white-knuckled around the handle, blood already beading and running down her wrists from where she gripped too hard. The wood of the frame groaned with each pulse from the wardstone beyond—living timber responding to magic older than the city itself.

Her wings were half-spread behind her, leathery and protective, crimson eyes fixed on the barrier between them and whatever waited in the darkness of the hallway. Silra moved across the room with predatory grace despite the slippery floor, her technomancer's instincts screaming at her to find an exit, any exit, before the building decided to fold in on itself completely. The wardstone's energy seeped through every crack and seam, visible as faint blue mist that curled around the group like a predator circling prey.

Halie shifted her grip on the mirror, feeling the cold glass vibrate with each pulse. "Jeane," she said, voice steady despite the fear coiling in her gut, "I think we need to talk about what happens next." She glanced at Hera huddled in the corner, then back to Silra working those lockpicks with desperate efficiency. "Because if this wall comes down, we won't survive it..."