Round 802

The stone beneath their feet rumbled ominously, a warning that time was running out. Merrin adjusted Varikka’s weight across her shoulders yet again, her muscles screaming in protest. The fireman’s carry had seemed like a good idea when they’d first stumbled into this mess—now?, it felt like she was hauling a boulder. "How much further?" Varrika groaned from above, her voice strained with pain and exertion. "Because I don’t think I can keep this up much longer." The water was getting louder, the sound of rushing liquid growing more insistent with each passing second. Merrin could feel the vibrations through her boots now, a steady thrum that made her heart race.

"Just... just around this next corner," she managed, her own breath coming in ragged gasps. She wasn’t sure if it was true—the map had been vague at best—but they needed to believe it. Needed to keep moving forward before the entire damn tower came crashing down on top of them. The hallway narrowed ahead, the ceiling dropping lower until Merrin had to duck her head to avoid scraping it against the rough stone. She could barely see anything in the oppressive gloom, relying instead on touch and instinct to guide them through the treacherous passage.

"Careful," she warned as they approached a particularly precarious-looking section. The floor here was slick with moisture, water pooling in places where ancient cracks had allowed liquid to seep through. She shifted Varikka’s weight once more, trying to distribute it evenly across her own aching shoulders. Her friend was heavy—much heavier than Merrin would have guessed—and the added strain of keeping them both balanced on this wet stone was starting to tell.

"You doing okay up there?" she asked, partly because she needed to hear Varikka’s voice and partly because she genuinely wanted to know. The dwarf woman had taken a nasty fall earlier, her ankle swelling to twice its normal size almost immediately. It had been Merrin’s idea to just carry her—what could possibly go wrong with that plan?—but now?, as they stumbled through this increasingly unstable maze of stone, she was beginning to think maybe they should have found another solution.

"I’m fine," Varrika grunted, though her voice suggested otherwise. "Just... keep moving." The water was getting closer now, its roar filling the entire hallway. Merrin could feel it in her bones—they were running out of time. She pushed forward with renewed determination, her muscles screaming in protest as she half-dragged, half-carried them towards whatever lay around that next corner.

And then, suddenly, they were through. The hallway opened up into a vast chamber, easily twice the size of any room they’d seen so far. And there, at the far end, was what they’d been searching for: the Time-Splitting Sword, its blade glowing with an otherworldly light that seemed to pulse in rhythm with Merrin’s own racing heart. But between them and the sword stood a figure—a woman clad in ancient armor, her eyes burning with an intensity that made Merrin’s blood run cold.

The Guardian had found them first.