Round 697

Merrin pressed herself against the stone wall, her dagger held at eye-level as the Guardian advanced with measured steps. The creature's sword sliced through the air in a deadly arc, missing her by inches—close enough that wind pressure tugged at her damp hair. Pebbles and dust rained down into the chasm from the impact point, vanishing into the mist below.

Her breath came in short gasps, each one tasting of stone dust and the lingering sweetness of the noxious gas. Her ankle throbbed with every heartbeat, but she ignored it, focusing on the Guardian's movements. She was exhausted, soaked, injured—and trapped on a narrow ledge with nowhere to run except into the chasm or into the creature's blade.

The Guardian lunged again, and Merrin twisted aside, her back scraping against rough stone. The sword struck the wall where she'd been standing moments before, sending more debris cascading downwards. One particularly large chunk of stone bounced off the far wall and landed directly in front of her.

Merrin stared at it for a second, her mind too tired to process what she was seeing. Then the creature moved again, and instinct drove her to dodge once more. As she shifted her weight, something caught her eye—the stone hadn't just fallen; it had cracked the ledge. A narrow fissure now ran along the edge of the path, barely visible in the dim light.

Her heart hammered in her chest. It was insane—crawling through a crack in solid rock with no idea what lay beyond—but it was the only option she could see. She could try to fight the Guardian, but her skills were meant for stealth and speed, not head-on combat. And Varikka... Varikka needed help.

Fuck, she thought, this is either brilliant or suicidal. But she didn't have time to hesitate. The Guardian was already preparing another strike, its sword gleaming in the gloom. Merrin took a deep breath—noxious gas and all—and made her decision. She wasn't going out like this, trapped on a ledge with no way forward.

She dropped her dagger and threw herself at the crack in the rock, scrambling into it with desperate speed. Stone scraped against her back and shoulders as she wiggled through the opening, her feet pushing against the wall behind her for leverage. The space was tight—painfully so—and smelled of ancient stone and something metallic.

She squeezed through, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her ears. For a terrifying moment, she thought she might get stuck halfway through, but then her hips cleared the opening, and she tumbled forward into darkness.

Merrin hit the ground with a jarring thud, the impact sending fresh pain shooting up her injured ankle. She lay there for a second, gasping for breath, before forcing herself to sit up and assess her surroundings. The fall had brought her to another chamber, smaller than the one above but equally ancient-looking. She could hear the distant sound of water flowing somewhere nearby.

At least I'm not dead, she thought, and I didn't fall into the chasm. But now she was trapped in a different way—no idea where Varikka was, no idea how to get back up, and no idea what other horrors this tower might hold. The only good news was that the noxious gas seemed weaker here, though her head was still pounding from the earlier exposure.

Merrin pulled out her crossbow with shaking hands, loading it carefully. Okay, she told herself, one problem at a time. Find Varikka. Stay alive. Don't think about how fucked this whole situation is. She took a deep breath—cleaner air than above—and began to move deeper into the chamber, her mace held ready in her free hand.

The stone around her was slick with moisture, and water dripped somewhere nearby. Her ankle protested every step, but she gritted her teeth and kept moving. The last thing she needed now was to fall and break something else.

Where are you, Varikka? she thought as she crept forward, and what the hell do we do next?