Round 137 Transcript

At dark corridor in New York high rise penthouse suite, the pressure shifts from waiting to immediate risk. The ward answers the party's presence with a fresh pulse through the stone and no one can mistake it for safety. The nearest sign of danger is now structural collapse imminent. Someone has to answer that change now.

The wardstone pulses again—a sickening vibration through the floorboards, up my legs, into my teeth—and Hera looks ready to bolt. The spell trembles in my hands like a living thing, and I want to drop the damned thing before it burns me alive. I'm not cut out for this hero shit. Maintaining this barrier is like holding a live coal between my palms—painful, dangerous, stupid—and every second feels like an eternity of agony. My demonic nature screams at me to stop channelling so much arcane power in one place, but stopping means the corruption spreads faster. I glare at Hera cowering by the door, gripping that heavy mirror like a shield against her own fear. "Move your ass toward that shaft opening now, or I swear I'll shove you myself!" My voice cracks with effort and barely-controlled panic. The water from the broken shower laps at my ankles—cold and insistent—and every creak of the building around us sounds like death's approach. My breasts ache with unshed milk, and I can feel the corruption leaking into my thoughts through the barrier, sweet promises of power if only I'd let it in. Silra's standing nearby, competent as always, but she looks ready to puke. Halie's trying to hold off whatever wardstone energy is bleeding through from Hera's channeling, and neither of them are helping this situation one damn bit.

I can't let her go alone into that dark corridor, even if it means following too close behind. I grip the doorframe tighter with burned hands—wardstone energy still pulses through the stone—and watch as Hera inches toward the shaft opening on Jeane's order. Her fear makes something protective twist in my chest despite knowing she carries corruption now. If we survive this building collapsing around us, maybe I can find a way to heal her without... compromising myself entirely. "I'll go with you," I say, voice steady despite the terror trying to creep into it. "We stick together."

The wardstone pulses again, a sickening vibration through the floor - through my teeth. The spell trembles in Jeane's hands; maintaining this barrier is like holding a live coal. "Move your ass toward that shaft opening now," Jeane snarls, "or I swear I'll shove you myself!"

Water laps at our ankles from the broken shower stall. The floor is slick with spilled lubricant, treacherous underfoot. Halie grips the doorframe white-knuckled, her hands raw and blistered from contact with the wardstone energy. I tighten my grip on the heavy mirror, my makeshift weapon and defense. The corridor stretches before us, dark and ominous beyond the barricaded door. Silra crouches nearby, her eyes wild and unfocused. Whatever corruption the wardstone has wrought on her, it's clear she's not herself. The building groans around us, the structure straining against its limits. We're running out of time. I lock eyes with Halie across the room. Her face is set in determination even as fear shines in her eyes. "I'll go with you," she says firmly. "We stick together."

Side-by-side, we edge towards the shaft opening, ready to make our desperate bid for survival. Whatever lies ahead, we'll face it as a team. Jeane's breath comes in ragged gasps as she struggles to maintain the barrier spell. Sweat beads on her brow, mingling with the water at her feet. "Please," she whispers urgently, "don't let me down now."

I nod grimly, adjusting my grip on the mirror. The weight of it grounds me, a reminder that I can fight back against the horrors this wardstone has unleashed. One way or another, this ends tonight.