Round 138

Silra’s teal eyes narrowed fractionally as she watched Jeane’s magic tear at the containment field like a wild thing. The barrier wavered visibly around them, shimmering with strain. This was bad. Very bad.

“Jeane,” she said, voice sharp and even, “You’re pulling too much. The field won’t hold if you keep this rate.” She traced her companion’s spine with her palm, a grounding gesture meant to help recalibrate the flow before it tore itself apart—or worse, Jeane apart from the inside out. “Let me help stabilize it.”

Jeane’s wings flickered at Silra’s touch, the movement jerky and uncontrolled. Her breath came in short pants, magic pulsing visibly through her skin now, veins glowing beneath translucent flesh. The tight corset did little to contain her swollen breasts, milk beading at the tips from arousal and magical backlash.

“I don’t need your help,” Jeane snapped, though the words came out more breathless than intended. “And Hera isn’t a threat—she’s an opportunity.” Her gaze returned to Abby, who stood trembling by the wall, and a predatory smile curved her lips. “Besides, I’m not displaying anything. This is just… natural.”

Silra’s expression remained carefully neutral despite the obvious bullshit. She moved closer, her slim form radiating an aura of calm competence that contrasted sharply with Jeane’s barely contained chaos. “Your magic is screaming, Jeane. That’s not natural. It’s desperate.” She glanced at Hera’s struggling form, still magically bound and silenced in the corner. “Let me stabilize the fields while you… handle Abby. Or would you rather risk losing control completely and letting our guest here break free?”