Round 411

Merrin’s grip on Varikka’s arm tightens 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. “Where?” she manages, voice strained. 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.

Merrin shakes her head, already moving forward despite the crumbling ground. “Anywhere but here.” The sound of rushing water below grows louder as more stone gives way, opening cracks in the floor that reveal glimpses of the torrent beneath.