Round 770

In the ancient tower's depths, the air grows thick with dust and the scent of stone about to give way. Merrin clutches the Time-Splitting Sword tightly, its energy pulsing in her hands like a heartbeat. Varrika limps heavily beside her, each step a visible agony on her injured ankle. "We need to move," Merrin says urgently, eyes scanning the treacherous path ahead. "The whole place is coming down." The ground trembles again, a low rumble that seems to vibrate through their very bones. Dust falls from the ceiling in a thick cloud.

Varrika grits her teeth against the pain, forcing herself to push forward one limping step at a time. "I know," she says, voice strained with tension. "But this tunnel is getting narrower by the second. The walls are closing in on us like a vise." She peers into the darkness ahead, her eyes straining to make out any details in the gloom. "Merrin, can you see anything up ahead? Any sign of an exit or a safe place to rest?" The ground trembles again, more insistently this time. A shower of small stones rains down from overhead.

Merrin's grip on the sword tightens as she scans the corridor ahead. "I'm not seeing any obvious exits," she admits reluctantly. "But we can't stay here—this whole section is ready to collapse." She moves closer to Varrika, offering support. "Lean on me if you need to. We'll find a way through this together." The Time-Splitting Sword pulses again in her hands, its energy seeming to respond to the danger around them.