Round 585

The stones beneath them groaned again, a sound like a beast in its death throes. Merrin braced herself against the wall as another tremor shook the room, her eyes wide and alert in the flickering torchlight. Varrika stumbled, her injured ankle screaming with each step, but she caught herself before falling. The ground shifted again, and a section of floor near them crumbled away with a sound like thunder. Dust billowed up from the sudden collapse, and through it they caught a glimpse of swirling darkness below.

"Move!" Varrika barked, already shifting her weight. They scrambled back as the stone collapsed inward, revealing a glimpse of swirling darkness below before the dust obscured it completely. The air grew colder, carrying the scent of decay and something else—old magic, perhaps, or just the smell of death. Merrin's stomach twisted with fear, but she forced herself to focus on Varrika.

"We have to keep moving," Merrin said, her voice tight with fear but steady. "Forward is the only way out." Varrika nodded grimly, leaning on her friend's shoulder as they picked their way across the treacherous terrain. The ground shifted again, and this time a jagged crack appeared in the ceiling overhead. Dust began to filter down like fine snow.

"Shit," Varrika muttered, her good hand tightening on Merrin's shoulder. "This place is coming down."