Round 117

The structure complained like a dying beast as Jeane pressed her palms flat against the barrier door. The wardstone pulsed through stone and spell both—its rhythm accelerating like something waking up inside their walls. The floor beneath them was slick with water from the broken shower stall and whatever lube spilled during Hera's earlier panic.

"Hera," she said sharply over the groaning structure, "stop hyperventilating or you'll pass out and... Silra's mechanical eye flickered rapidly as it processed the structural data—the building's integrity was failing faster than she'd anticipated. The next major pulse from the wardstone could very well bring the entire corridor down around them.

"Listen to me," Jeane continued, her voice tight with barely controlled panic, "we can't stay here forever. The building is coming down whether we like it or not."