Round 694

The ancient stone groaned like a dying beast beneath her feet, a sound that sent ice through Merrin's veins. She pressed herself flat against the narrow ledge, fingers digging into the rough rock face as another tremor ran through the chamber. Far below, she could make out Varrika's pale hand still clutching a broken ledge—the only sign of her friend's continued existence in this hellish maze.

"Varikka!" Her voice cracked with desperation, echoing back to her distorted and hollow. The noxious gas swirling up from the depths made her head swim, each breath burning her lungs. She could hear labored breathing below but no response—just the drip of water somewhere nearby and the constant rumble of shifting stone. "Varikka! Answer me!" Merrin shouted again, though she knew it was useless. The gas was too thick down there, the fall too severe. Her friend was likely unconscious or worse, pinned beneath rubble in that churning darkness.

Another tremor shook the ledge, and a fresh cascade of pebbles tumbled into the abyss. She had to get down there. Had to find Varrika before it was too late. But how? The chamber's groan intensified, stone grinding against stone in a symphony of impending doom. Merrin knew she had seconds—perhaps only moments—before this entire section came crashing down.