Round 122

Jeane cursed under her breath, her demon blood singing with alarm as 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. 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 various sex toys scattered across the floor—tangible evidence of what had kept them occupied until now. "Unless you want to die in a pile of dildos, focus on keeping this door closed."

The building groaned again, louder this time, and a fresh rain of dust fell from the ceiling. Jeane's wings twitched instinctively, ready to launch her away from danger even as she knew they'd be trapped between floors if the shaft collapsed entirely. She needed options—fast—and Hera's fear was making it hard to think clearly.

"Halie," she called out, voice carrying over the creaking wood, "what's your status? Can you handle that side?"