Round 197

The wardstone's pulse sends a fresh wave of corruption through the corridor, each beat making the stone itself seem to sigh with relief as more energy leaks out. The building groans in response—metal twisting, concrete cracking—but this time it's not just settling. Jeane grits her teeth harder, pushing more power through the dildo conduit, feeling her demonic nature strain against the human spellwork. Her breasts feel heavy and full, milk beginning to leak from her nipples as the raw energy flows through her body.

"Silra!" she snaps, voice sharp with barely controlled panic. "Timeline! Now!"

Across the corridor, Halie's pushing against the door with every ounce of strength she has left, burned hands screaming protest but she can't let up—the wardstone's energy is licking around the frame now, tasting their fear. Building groans like a beast waking up wrong, and Hera's hyperventilating behind her, her panic sharper than any pain in her palms.

"Jeane!" Her voice comes out steadier than she feels. "How long does Silra need? Floor's shifting under us." Water's flooding in somewhere unseen, mixing with the spilled lube to make the surface slicker than sin.

Silra counts breaches by sound alone—three major ones above them, spreading like cracks in ice. She can hear the concrete crumbling, feel the building's structure failing moment by moment. Every passing second is another pulse of the wardstone, more energy seeping out, more pressure on Jeane's barrier spell.

"We've got seconds," she calls back, voice tight. "Maybe less."