Round 594

The sound of grinding stone filled the air like the groans of some ancient beast waking from slumber. Merrin’s grip on Varrika tightened instinctively as another tremor ran through the floor—this one harder than the last. They were running now, driven by the primal need to escape the collapsing structure even as rational thought screamed that there was nowhere safe in this damn place.

“Where are we running to?” Merrin gasped, her voice barely heard over the roar of falling stone.

Varrika’s jaw remained set, a grim line against the pain that lanced through her with every step. Her good hand tightened around the haft of her mace, seeking comfort in its familiar weight even as she knew it offered little defense against the very structure trying to consume them. “We keep moving,” she growled back, her voice rough with effort and something deeper—fear perhaps, or maybe just the certainty that stopping meant death.

“The wall!” Merrin suddenly cried out, pointing ahead where a section of stone had partially collapsed, creating a narrow gap barely wide enough for a halfling to squeeze through. “It’s our only chance!”

Varrika didn’t hesitate. She surged forward, her injured ankle screaming in protest as she threw herself at the opening. Stone scraped against stone, dust billowing out as the gap widened just enough for her to wedge through sideways. Merrin followed a heartbeat later, her smaller frame allowing her to slip through more easily.

They tumbled out into a new chamber, this one seeming slightly more stable than the last. But the sound of cracking stone and falling debris continued from behind them, a constant reminder that their time was running out.