Round 54

The water was cold enough to burn, seeping into Merrin's boots and leathers as she waded through the newly formed lake filling the chamber. The liquid rose fast—too fast—and she had to resist the urge to swim for higher ground that didn't exist yet. Her crossbow felt heavy in her hands, its string already soaked through from the pit water she'd barely escaped. Every shadow in the flickering torchlight seemed to move wrong, and the sound of something massive shifting stone echoed through the tunnels behind her.

She forced herself to breathe slowly, counting each inhale and exhale while scanning the water's surface for any sign of movement beyond the rising waves. The weight of her own gear pulled at her shoulders, every heavy coin and tool now seeming like an anchor rather than a lifeline. She needed to move forward, needed to find the others or at least confirm Merrin wasn't... but the thought finished itself with a sick dread she refused to voice.

The water lapped at her thighs now, swirling unnaturally around her legs as if avoiding something below the surface. She took another step deeper, crossbow raised and ready, every muscle coiled tight enough to snap. The silence between the groans of collapsing stone felt louder than any scream.