Round 79

The walls pulsed with ancient magic, their symbols glowing brighter as if responding to Serrine’s distress. Varrika gripped her harder, trying to keep her upright as the priestess’s eyes rolled back. “Serrine!” she hissed, voice sharp with fear. The air shimmered around them, thick with power that made Merrin’s teeth ache.

Merrin had seen many things in her travels but never a crystal that pulsed like a living heart, drawing energy from the very air. She moved closer to Varrika instinctively, crossbow ready even though she knew bullets would do little against whatever force was at work here. “What’s happening?” she demanded, voice low and urgent.

“I... think so... Father...” Serrine’s words slurred together, barely coherent. The stone under their feet seemed to vibrate now, the humming growing louder until it felt like Merrin’s bones were resonating with it. Varrika shifted her grip, trying to support both Serrine and her own heavy gear. “Stay with me,” she growled, more to herself than the priestess.

The light from the walls intensified, casting stark shadows that danced across the stone. Merrin squinted against the glare, feeling sweat bead on her forehead despite the cool air. This was wrong—deeply, fundamentally wrong. She could feel it in her gut, the same instinct that had kept her alive through too many close calls to count. “We need to move,” she said, voice barely more than a breath. “Now.”

Varrika nodded grimly, muscles tensing as she prepared to drag Serrine forward if necessary. The crystal pulsed again, its surface rippling like disturbed water. And then, just as suddenly, the humming stopped. The symbols on the walls dimmed slightly, their light becoming less aggressive. Merrin exchanged a glance with Varrika—neither woman needed words to understand the unspoken question hanging between them. What now?