Round 776

Merrin's voice echoed through the darkness, a desperate cry that seemed to bounce off the ancient stone walls before fading into silence. The air in the chamber was thick with the stench of decay and something else—something metallic and wrong. The sound of scurrying rodents filled the space, their frantic movements a stark reminder of the precariousness of their situation.

The Time-Splitting Sword lay tantalizingly close, its pulsing light now lost to the darkness that seemed to cling to every surface like a living thing. Varikka's injured ankle throbbed with every subtle shift in the floor beneath them, threatening to give way at any moment. Merrin could feel the weight of the stone above them, hear the distant groans of the collapsing structure growing closer with each passing second.

Varikka! The name tore from Merrin's throat, a desperate plea into the oppressive darkness. She knew her friend was down there somewhere, trapped and injured, possibly bleeding out even as they spoke. The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through her, but she pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand.

We can't leave Varikka down there to die, she thought, her stomach churning at the idea. Not after everything we've been through. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knew must come next—an attempt to reach Varikka before it was too late. The darkness seemed to press in around her, the air growing thicker with each passing moment.

I have to find a way down there, Merrin whispered to herself, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her mace.* I have to save her, no matter what it takes. But first, she needed to find solid ground before the entire chamber came crashing down around them both.