Round 482

The water was up to their waists now, cold and relentless. Merrin clutched the sword in one hand, her other pressed flat against the stone wall as she backed away from Varrika's desperate swings with the crowbar. Each strike sent fresh cracks racing through the ancient rock, but the rising tide showed no sign of slowing. "There has to be something!" Merrin gasped, her voice barely carrying over the roar of rushing water. "An exit, a hidden panel, anything!" Varrika grunted in response, her face set in a mask of concentration as she brought the iron bar down again and again. The effort was costing her—her injured ankle screamed with each movement, but she pushed through the pain. She wasn't about to let Merrin drown here in this godsforsaken chamber just because she couldn't hack it.