Round 205 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—louder this time—and I feel the building groan around us like an old beast waking up. The dildo in my hand buzzes with stolen power as I channel through it into the wall socket, creating a shimmering barrier between us and whatever lies beyond that corrupted door. My thighs quiver from the exertion, sweat beading between my breasts where they strain against my shirt. "Silra!" I snap, voice tight with concentration. "Get Hera behind that barricade now! She's falling apart faster than this fucking structure." The elf hesitates for just a moment too long—eyes darting between the trembling door and the makeshift barrier of furniture we've piled there—and I almost lose my grip on the spell. "Move!" I command, channeling more energy through the toy. It vibrates violently in my hand, sending jolts up my arm as I strain against the wardstone's pushback. "Halie's already burning herself out holding that door—you want her sacrifice to be for nothing?"

The corridor beyond darkens further, and I catch the rhythmic thud of something heavy approaching. Footsteps? No—too deliberate, too slow. Whatever answers our intrusion is coming, and it's not in a hurry. "Jeane," Halie gasps from where she braces against the frame, her hands smoking slightly as she fights the wardstone's corruption creeping through the wood. "Two more minutes. I can hold... two more."

I nod sharply, gritting my teeth against the pain of overchanneling. My demonic nature screams at me to stop, to rest, but that means death for all of us. The barrier flickers—I feed it more power, feeling my own reserves dwindling fast. "Silra!" I call again, frustration bleeding into my tone. "I said move Hera! Now!"

I pull Hera back behind the makeshift barricade, using my body to shield her from the door even as I watch Jeane strain against whatever ancient power is bleeding through the wardstone. The corridor beyond has gone from dark to something deeper—ink absolute—and the rhythmic thudding from down there isn't footsteps anymore. It's deliberate. Calculated. Jeane's right, of course she is. We need that barrier between us and whatever's coming. But I can see it—the moment her focus fractures as panic creeps into her voice. She needs a target for that fear, and if I don't give her something else to channel through, she'll burn herself out trying to keep the door up alone. So I step toward her, close enough to hear the strain in her breathing over the building's groan. "Stop," I say, flat and final. "You're not helping." My hand moves without thought—grabbing the dildo still plugged into the wall socket and yanking it free with a sharp crack of electricity that makes us both flinch. "Here," I shove it toward her chest, careful to avoid touching her hands where they're still wrapped around the first one. "Channel this instead." My thumb finds the switch, and I turn it on—just enough to make it vibrate against my palm before passing it over. The buzz is steady, reliable in a way that wall socket never was. Jeane's eyes lock onto mine for a moment, confusion warring with desperation there. Then she takes it, her fingers closing around the shaft with a grip that's almost possessive despite everything else happening. "Fine," she hisses, already guiding it between her legs and pressing the head against her clothed core. The fabric offers no real barrier—the wetness from earlier has soaked through, and now there's lubricant too, making every contour visible. She tips her head back as she pushes it inside herself with a sharp inhale. Her body jerks once—hips bucking involuntarily—but then she stills, concentrating on building that wall of power between us and whatever waits in the dark. I step back to give her space while keeping an eye on Hera behind me, checking that Halie's still holding up against the door. The wardstone pulses again, stronger this time, and I feel it like teeth scraping my spine. Whatever Jeane's doing with that dildo, it's working—redirecting some of that energy into something productive instead of just letting it bleed through. But now there's a new problem standing right in front of me. Because while Jeane's focused on building barriers between worlds, her physical body is completely exposed—the way she's positioned means anyone coming down the hall would see exactly what she's doing before they even get to us. And whatever's making those heavy footsteps isn't stopping.

My palms blister against the door frame, wardstone corruption seeping through like liquid fire. The mirror brace slides on the slick floor, water and spilled lubricant making this an impossible angle to hold steady. Every pulse from the darkness beyond makes my teeth ache. Silra! Get Hera secured behind the barricade now—this won't hold much longer! I call over my shoulder, not looking back because if I see her fear, I'll lose what little control I have left. The rhythmic thudding from deeper in the building grows louder, measured and deliberate like a predator approaching wounded prey. Jeane's voice shakes as she channels through that damned toy, and it makes me want to scream at them all for bringing this filth into our sanctuary. But we needed supplies, and now here we are—trapped between collapsing concrete and whatever ancient thing answers corruption with more corruption. Whatever you're doing back there, finish it! We don't have time for— A tremor runs through the floor, and I shift my weight to compensate, hands screaming as I press harder against the door. The mirror slips again, barely an inch but enough to show cracks spreading in the wood beyond. I can feel Hera's eyes on me, hear her breathing quicken even over the creaking building. Part of me wants to tell her it'll be okay, that I won't let anything hurt her—but what good are words when my hands are burning and the floor is giving way beneath us?