Round 674

Merrin crouched low, her wiry form coiled like a spring about to release. The heavy crossbow in her hands tracked the shifting shadows with practiced ease, knuckles white on the grip. Varrika stumbled beside her, her face twisted in agony as she bore weight on her damaged ankle. The dwarf woman's scarred features were set in a grim mask of determination, but even in the dim light, Merrin could see the sheen of sweat beading on her skin.

"Steady," she hissed, more for herself than Varrika. The ground beneath them rumbled again, a low growl that seemed to vibrate up from the very foundations. Merrin's gaze darted around the chamber, taking in every detail—the crumbling walls, the precarious piles of stone, the ominous silence where the Guardian's voice had last boomed. Something was changing. The air felt wrong, thick and heavy, like it was pressing down on them.

And then she saw it—a faint blue glow seeping from behind a tattered tapestry hanging on one wall. Her heart quickened. Was it an exit? Or something far more...