Round 475

Varikka shifted her weight, grimacing as pain shot up from her sprained ankle. The frigid water swirled around her thick legs now, lapping at her thighs with each insistent surge. She glared at the narrow stone passage ahead—a dark maw that offered little comfort—and demanded, "Well? What's down there? Another dead end?" Her voice echoed slightly off the damp walls, carrying a note of barely contained frustration.

Merrin tensed, her grip on the crowbar tightening until her knuckles turned white against the cold iron. She scanned the darkness beyond the passage, the ancient runes on the walls seeming to glow faintly in the dim torchlight—a sight that sent a shiver down her spine despite the cold water. She took a tentative step forward, the water splashing around her boots, and paused. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it's our only way out of here."