Round 717

The corridor’s groan was like a death rattle, stone grinding against stone in a sound that made Merrin’s stomach clench. She clung to the ledge with fingers that felt numb and useless, searching for purchase in the ancient, crumbling masonry. Below her yawned the pit—a dark hole promising impact, injury, or worse on its slick floor.

Her ankle throbbed with each movement, a sharp reminder of its precarious state. The near-drowning remained fresh in her mind—a terror that drove her forward despite the pain and danger. She needed solid ground. Needed Varikka’s steady presence, her friend’s unmistakably female voice.

"Varikka!" she called again, her voice cracking with strain. "Answer me! Are you still there?" Silence answered for a moment too long, then: "Here. Still here." The response was weak but present—a lifeline in the darkness. Merrin felt relief flood through her, sharp and sweet.

"You okay?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Another groan from above—stone shifting, giving way—and more dust rained down. Merrin pressed herself against the wall, heart pounding. When the air cleared again, she saw it—the ledge Varikka had mentioned, barely visible in the gloom.

"See the ledge?" Merrin called back, her voice tight with concentration as she began to inch along the narrow path. "I’m coming. Just… hold on."