Round 137

The wardstone pulsed again, a sickening vibration through the floorboards that made Hera's stomach lurch. The spell flickered in Jeane's outstretched hands, unstable and hungry, each pulse making it tremble like a living thing. She grit her teeth, fighting to maintain control as the magic seeped through cracks in her concentration—dark tendrils that made her demonic nature writhe in protest.

"Move your ass toward that shaft opening now," Jeane snarled, voice tight with effort and barely controlled fear, "or I swear I'll shove you myself!" The words came out more like a threat than a promise, but it was the best she could manage while holding back the tide of corruption with sheer willpower. Every second felt like an eternity of agony, the spell burning through her reserves like a ravenous beast.

Halie gripped the doorframe tighter with both hands, fingers white-knuckled as fresh waves of wardstone energy pulsed through the stone and into her palms. The burns were already blistering, skin raw and screaming in protest, but she refused to let go—refused to give up the only barrier between them and whatever waited beyond. "I'll go with her," Halie said quickly, voice strained as she met Jeane's crimson eyes over Hera's shoulder. The cleric could feel her own panic rising, a cold knot of fear in her gut that threatened to strangle rational thought.

Water lapped at their ankles from the broken shower stall, mixing with the puddles of spilled lubricant on the floor to create a treacherous surface. Each pulse of wardstone energy made the entire building groan, structural stresses compounding until it seemed like the ceiling might come down at any moment. The air itself felt wrong—thick with residual corruption that clung to exposed skin like oil.

Hera hesitated for only a second before nodding sharply and moving forward on shaky legs. The floorboards creaked ominously beneath her weight, and she had to fight the instinct to bolt back toward the relative safety of the main room. Instead, she inched toward the dark corridor opening, each step measured and careful across the slick surface.

Jeane's spell flickered again, almost collapsing entirely as another wardstone pulse hit with full force. The succubus snarled something under her breath—probably a curse—that made even Halie flinch despite having heard worse in confessional. "Keep moving," Jeane ground out through clenched teeth, sweat beading on her forehead from the exertion of maintaining the barrier. "I can't hold this much longer."

The corridor beyond stretched into darkness, silent and waiting. Something moved in the shadows at the far end—a flicker of motion that might have been imagination or something worse. The wardstone pulsed again, a rhythmic thrumming that seemed almost... hungry.