Round 77

The air grew heavy with tension as Serrine collapsed, her whispered word sending a chill down Merrin’s spine. The crystal pulsed at the bottom of the pit, drawing power from the rogue’s agony and feeding it back into the ancient stone walls. Varrika hauled Serrine back onto solid ground with a grunt of effort, her dwarf strength barely enough to counter the pull of gravity.

“What in the name of all that’s stone happened?” Varrika demanded, her voice rough with exertion and barely contained anger as she helped Serrine sit. The rogue’s eyes were rolled back in her head, her body trembling uncontrollably. Merrin moved closer, crossbow at the ready, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement.

The crystal pulsed again, its surface rippling like water disturbed from below. The ancient symbols on the walls seemed to glow faintly in response, their meanings lost to time but their power undeniable. Varrika shifted her grip on Serrine, her muscles tensing as she prepared to defend against whatever threat might emerge.

“We need to move,” Merrin hissed, her dark eyes darting around the chamber. “This place is wrong—something’s feeding on her pain.” The air itself seemed to hum with magical energy, a low thrum that set her teeth on edge. Varrika nodded grimly, her hand moving to the hilt of her heavy mace.

“Aye,” she growled, “but where? Every step in this cursed tower could be our last.” She glanced at the collapsed section of floor, the darkness below seeming to stare back at them like an open maw. The crystal pulsed once more, its light growing brighter and more insistent.