Round 547

Merrin’s heart leapt into her throat as she heard Varrika’s cry. “Varikka!” She sprinted around the corner, crossbow raised, only to find her friend teetering on the edge of a hidden pit, mace held at the ready. Below, the icy waters churned ominously, and above, the stone ceiling groaned under its own weight. “Hold still, don’t move!” Merrin hissed, dropping to one knee beside Varrika and reaching out with her free hand. “Give me your good wrist, I’ve got rope.”

Varikka hesitated for a fraction of a second, eyes fixed on the glowing orbs in the darkness. Then she extended her uninjured wrist towards Merrin, gritting her teeth against the pain in her ankle. “I don’t know if I can trust my footing,” she growled, voice tight with fear and determination. “The ground feels like it’s shifting beneath me.”*