Round 410

Merrin’s grip tightens on Varikka’s arm as the ground beneath them groans ominously. “We have to move,” she hisses, her dark eyes scanning the rapidly deteriorating passage ahead. Dust clouds obscure their vision, thick enough to taste the stone and mortar in the air. Each step forward requires careful placement of feet on crumbling rock, the sound of falling debris growing closer with every passing second. Varikka grits her teeth against the pain shooting up from her ankle, using the crowbar as a makeshift crutch to keep weight off it. The precarious wooden bridge behind them creaks loudly, planks shifting under stress. Merrin’s gaze darts between the collapsing tunnel ahead and the increasingly unstable structure supporting the bridge behind them. “This whole place is coming down,” she mutters, more to herself than Varikka. “We need an alternative route—fast.”