Round 870

Merrin’s grip on Varikka’s arm tightens, her palm slick with nervous sweat. “Keep going,” she mutters, voice low and urgent despite the tremor in it. The sound of collapsing stone echoes through the passage, each rumble sending a fresh jolt of fear through her already overtaxed nerves. She drags Varikka forward, half-supporting the dwarf woman’s weight as they navigate the treacherous footing. Elric follows, his torch flickering wildly in the drafty corridor, casting eerie shadows that dance across the ancient stone walls. The air grows thicker, heavy with the smell of damp earth and mold. Merrin’s head throbs with each heartbeat, the lingering effects of the noxious gas making her vision swim slightly at the edges.

Varikka stumbles again, her injured ankle protesting with a sharp jolt of pain. “Fuck,” the dwarf woman hisses through clenched teeth. “I don’t know how much longer I can—”