Round 572

Merrin crouched beside Varrika in the dim corridor, her dark eyes scanning the rough stone walls and trailing roots while she worked quickly to stabilize the dwarf woman's injured ankle. The air was thick with decay and the stench of damp earth, punctuated by the steady drip of water somewhere nearby. "Hold still," she urged softly, already threading strips of torn fabric from her own shirt into a makeshift brace. Varrika's face was contorted in pain, sweat beading on her forehead despite the coolness of the air.

As Merrin worked, Elric's voice echoed again from the darkness ahead, carrying an unsettling edge. "Time is almost up... You will not escape this place." The words sent a chill down Merrin's spine, and she glanced up at the looming rusty door at the corridor's end. It stood partially ajar, revealing more shadowed depths beyond.

Varrika hissed through clenched teeth as Merrin tightened the makeshift brace. "Fuck," she growled under her breath, shifting her grip on the heavy mace in her free hand. "Where are we even..." Her words trailed off as a new voice boomed through the passage—cold, malevolent, and unmistakably The Guardian's. "You will not leave this place alive," it declared, echoing ominously off the stone walls.

Merrin finished tying off the brace with quick, practiced knots, then helped Varrika to her feet. The dwarf woman tested her weight gingerly on the injured ankle, wincing but managing a few tentative steps. "This way," Merrin whispered, gesturing deeper into the darkness. "We need to keep moving." Each step was an agony for Varrika, her sprained ankle screaming protests with every shift of weight. But they had no choice—staying put meant certain death or worse.

As they limped forward, Merrin's keen eyes scanned the corridor ahead, searching for any sign of escape or advantage. The passage stretched onward into gloom, barely illuminated by their dwindling supply of torches. Water dripped somewhere nearby, steady and ominous. The walls were rough-hewn stone, covered in patches of slick green mold and trailing roots from above. "We need to find a way out of here," she muttered, more to herself than to Varrika. "And fast."