Round 121

The wardstone pulsed again, faster now—each beat a countdown measured in seconds rather than minutes. The stone's energy bled through the door frame like heat from an open furnace, visible only to those who knew what to look for. Jeane felt it first, her demon blood responding with a jolt that made her skin crawl. She'd been standing guard for hours already, watching the wardstone pulse in time with the building's dying breaths.

"Silra," she snapped, voice sharp enough to cut through the creaking timbers, "I need you thinking about exits, not toys." Her eyes never left the door frame where the wardstone's energy bled through. "Every pulse is structural stress—we have maybe thirty seconds between failures now."

Hera crouched beside the barricade, hands shaking as she helped brace the door with a heavy mirror. The wood around them settled with a sound like ancient bones shifting. "Is there anything else we can use?" she asked, voice tight with barely controlled panic.

Jeane's response was immediate and brutal. "We need structural support, not more lubricant." She gestured sharply at the scattered sex toys and bottles across the floor—now coated in water from the broken shower stall. The building groaned louder, and a fresh crack split the plaster above them.