Round 207

The stone ground against itself with a sound like teeth gnashing together. Merrin's hands found purchase in cracks and seams, her fingers working the ancient mortar loose around the edges of the slab. The weight was immense, pressing down with the force of centuries, but desperation lent her strength. Varikka lay beneath, her face pale, eyes squeezed shut against the pain. The rubble had caught her leg, pinning it at an angle that spoke of injury beyond simple bruising.

Blood seeped from where stone met flesh, mixing with rising water that now lapped at their ankles with insistent curiosity. Seraphine stood a few paces away, her expression a mask of concentration as she worked through some arcane invocation. The air around her hands shimmered faintly, magic gathering in visible pulses. The tentacled horror remained motionless, its attention divided between the struggling women and the widening crack in the wall through which Seraphine had disappeared.

Merrin's breath came in short gasps as she strained against the stone, muscles trembling with effort. The cold water was already numbing her feet, a sure sign that hypothermia would set in quickly if they didn't find warmth soon. She couldn't save Varikka alone—not with her limited strength and no healing magic of her own. She needed Seraphine's help, but the wizardess had vanished into who knew what dangers beyond the wall.

The sound of grinding stone filled the air again as Merrin redoubled her efforts, sweat beading on her forehead despite the chill. Every second counted now.