Round 690

The rope snapped like a bowstring, the frayed ends whipping through air before falling limply to stone. Merrin lunged forward instinctively, her hands grasping at empty space above the chasm's edge. Varrika's voice called up from below, muffled by thick stone between them. "Varikka!" Merrin screamed, dropping to her stomach and crawling towards the ledge's brink. She could hear the dwarf woman's labored breathing echoing up from the darkness. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?" The ground beneath her trembled again, more violently this time, and Merrin felt a surge of panic rise in her throat. She knew they didn't have much time—the chamber was unstable, the air thick with noxious gas, and the Guardian was still advancing, its footsteps echoing ominously across stone floor.

"Hold on!" she called down, her voice shaking. "I'm coming!" She could see Varikka's silhouette below, clinging to a precarious outcropping of rock. The dwarf woman's injured ankle was clearly visible in the dim light, swollen and bruised, and Merrin felt a fresh wave of fear wash over her. She knew Varika was in agony, knew that every movement must be painful, but there was no time to hesitate. The ground beneath them was crumbling, and the gas was making her head spin.

"Don't move!" Merrin shouted, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm going to find a way down to you." She scrambled back from the edge, her mind racing as she tried to think of a solution. There had to be another way—a rope or a ladder or something they could use to descend safely. But as she looked around the chamber, all she saw were crumbling walls and shifting stone. The Guardian's approach was relentless, its massive form now mere yards away, and Merrin knew they were running out of time.

She turned back to the ledge, her heart pounding. "Varikka," she called down again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just hold on. I'll find a way."