Round 220

The stones groaned like a beast waking as dust settled in the chamber's oppressive silence. The Figure advanced closer, its eyes burning with unnatural intensity into Varrika and Merrin. "You felt that too?" Merrin breathed, crossbow tracking the entity's movement with mechanical precision. The air tasted wrong—old dust and something else, something alive and hungry.

Varrika shifted her grip on the heavy mace, knuckles white against the haft. Her eyes roamed the ceiling for any sign of collapse or movement, muscles coiled tight beneath her scarred armor. The Figure in Shimmering Light loomed before them, its eyes burning with an otherworldly light that made Merrin's skin crawl. She could feel the energy from the central pool pulsing through the air, making it hard to breathe—it was like the very ground they were standing on was trying to unravel around them.

But she knew they couldn't just stand here and wait for whatever horror was about to be unleashed upon them. The stones themselves seemed to exhale dust as the chamber settled around them, a sound like ancient stone complaining under too much weight or too many years. The Figure took another step closer, its eyes burning with an intensity that made the air around them seem to thicken and pulse. Merrin's crossbow tracked the entity's movement with mechanical precision, each creak of settling rock making her finger tighten on the trigger guard.

Varrika nodded grimly at Merrin's words, her hand tightening on the grip of her mace. The Figure loomed before them, its eyes burning into hers with an intensity that made her skin crawl. She could feel the energy from the central pool pulsing through the air, making it hard to breathe—it was like the very ground they were standing on was trying to unravel around them.

But Merrin was right—she couldn't just stand here and wait for whatever horror was about to be unleashed upon them.