Round 736

The portal pulses with an ominous rhythm, its light casting flickering shadows that dance across the stone walls of the chamber. Varikka stands at its edge, her scarred hands gripping the ancient sword tightly despite the pain shooting up from her sprained ankle. “This feels wrong,” she mutters, more to herself than to Merrin. The dwarf woman’s eyes are fixed on the swirling energies within the portal, a mixture of fear and grim determination etched across her features. Merrin approaches cautiously, her rogue instincts screaming warnings even as an odd compulsion tugs at her senses. “By the Goddess’ light,” she breathes, her fingers tightening around the haft of her heavy mace. The mysterious energy seems to reach out toward them, and she shakes her head sharply, trying to clear it. “We can’t just jump through without knowing what’s on the other side,” she says, her voice low and urgent. “Elric mentioned facing our inner darkness first—maybe this is what he meant.” Varikka turns to face her, the sword held firmly in her good hand. “The Guardian will be here soon,” she growls. “We need to move.” Merrin nods grimly, her eyes scanning the chamber for any other exits or potential threats. “Agreed. But first, let’s get you out of that pool and onto solid ground. Your ankle won’t hold much longer like that.”

She extends a hand to help Varikka climb out of the magical water.