Round 286

The stone screamed beneath Merrin's boots, a groaning protest that seemed to vibrate up through her very bones. Water surged around her thighs now, a dark tide that had found new purpose and spilled into the narrow corridor with a greedy hiss. She stumbled back instinctively, nearly losing her footing on the slick stone. Her dagger felt suddenly inadequate against this new threat—a flood that moved with malevolent purpose.

The lake wasn't rising anymore; it was rushing, a torrent that had found a new outlet and was determined to fill every available space. Merrin's gaze darted between the rising tide and the darkness beyond the passage entrance. She could hear it now—the faint rustling of something moving through the water, something with too many legs. The sound grew louder, closer, and she knew they weren't alone down here anymore.

The Guardian still watched her from its alcove, those glowing eyes seeming to pulse in time with the rising water. Merrin fumbled for her crossbow, fingers clumsy with cold and adrenaline. She needed higher ground—fast—but the only way up was that treacherous ledge, now slick with spray and Goddess-knew-what else.

"Varikka!" she called out, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "Can you hear me? We need to move! Now!"

The water lapped hungrily at Merrin's soaked leathers, each wave carrying a low groan that seemed to come from the stone itself. She could feel the temperature dropping as more water poured in, and her teeth began to chatter despite her best efforts.

"Come on, come on," she muttered, searching desperately for a handhold or even a crack in the wall she could wedge herself into. The rising water was already past her knees now, and showing no signs of slowing.

She heard it then—a faint scratching sound echoing through the passage, growing louder with each passing second. Merrin's blood ran cold as she realized that the creature, still reeling from her previous attack, was now closing in on her position.

"Goddess help us," she breathed, tightening her grip on the crossbow. The water was up to her thighs now, and the ground beneath her feet felt disturbingly soft. She had maybe minutes—tops—before this entire section of the tower came down around them both.

With a desperate cry, Merrin launched herself upward, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slick stone. Her dagger clattered to the floor below as she focused every ounce of energy into climbing, each movement fueled by pure adrenaline and the primal need to survive.