Round 75

The tower groaned like a dying beast, its ancient timbers creaking under the strain of centuries. Water roared through new cracks in the stonework, flooding chambers that had known only stillness for ages.

Merrin clung to the edge of the crumbling platform, her wiry arms trembling with effort. The floodwaters lapped at her waist now, cold and insistent. She craned her neck, searching the churning darkness below. Varikka! Her voice barely carried over the rush of water and the groans of collapsing stone.

Something moved in the depths - a flicker of pale flesh or bone, or perhaps something else entirely. Merrin's stomach twisted with fear. What had they stirred up down here? What ancient horrors lurked in these waters?