Round 102

The stone wall shuddered with sudden violence, a groan like the earth itself was groaning in its sleep. Merrin whirled, her heavy mace already coming up despite the water dragging at it, weighing her down. The compartment slid open soundlessly, almost invitingly - but she knew better than to trust invitations from ancient stone in a dying tower.

Inside: a key and a message. Rusty iron that felt heavy with age in her palm, and parchment so old it seemed to crumble at her touch. She held it up, squinting at the faded ink in the torchlight. "For the door that leads to the light... seek the reflection of the Devourer's gaze." Below, a crude drawing of something tentacled and vast.

Her stomach dropped. The Devourer. That had to be the thing pulling Varikka down. And her? She was supposed to find its reflection? In water up to her waist now, spreading across the floor like liquid darkness. The sound of rushing water echoed from deeper inside - more flooding.

"Seraphine!" she hissed, turning back to the elf woman still hovering near the entrance. "Can you make sense of this? Because right now, it feels like a curse dressed up as a riddle." The stone groaned again, louder this time, a cascade of dust falling from the ceiling. They needed answers. And they needed them fast.

This is bad, she thought, water swirling around her thighs. Real bad.