Round 223

The structure screamed its need through every surface, concrete groaning like a living thing in agony. Hera moved toward the center of the room, her amber eyes wide with barely controlled panic. "This is insane," she hissed, glancing around at the others. "We don't have time for this—forty minutes said we had before this place comes down!" Her fingers tightened into fists as she faced Silra directly. "You can't just strap someone down and hope for the best when we don't know what that does to her mind. I won't let you turn this into an execution."

Silra's teal eyes flashed dangerously, but she didn't back down. She'd already coated her fingers with lubricant, moving away from the half-finished reinforcement plates toward the door. "This is pointless," she called back over her shoulder, voice sharp with barely contained panic. "We don't have time for moral debates when the entire floor could collapse in minutes!" Halie stepped between them, shield arm extended, blue-grey eyes steady despite the terror churning in her stomach. "Enough." Her voice cut through the structural whine with surprising authority. "You can't just strap someone down and hope for the best when we don't know what that does to her mind. I won't let you turn this into an execution." She faced Silra first, maintaining eye contact despite the elf's aggressive stance.

The barrier she'd been maintaining flickered, fed by desperation and barely holding back the building's insidious influence. Jeane stood near the center of the room, wings half-spread in agitation, crimson eyes fixed on the confrontation with a mixture of concern and barely-restrained hunger.