Round 880

The ground bucked again beneath them, and Merrin felt her stomach drop as the stone shelf they'd been clinging to crumbled away. The fast-moving river below surged closer with a hungry roar, its edge now mere feet from where she stood braced against the wall. She grabbed Varikka's arm instinctively, steadying the dwarf woman as she wavered on her injured ankle.

"Elric! Varikka!" Merrin shouted over the water's thunderous rush, her voice tight with urgency. The fighter slumped against her for support, face pale and drawn from both pain and exhaustion. She could feel Varikka trembling through her armor, the dwarf's weight heavy even in her strong arms.

"I see a narrow path along the wall," Elric called out, pointing to a precarious ledge just above the rushing water. "But it's barely wide enough for one person." He held up his torch, its flickering light revealing the treacherous terrain ahead—loose rocks, crumbling edges, and the constant threat of the surging river below.

Varikka snatched the torch from him, her grip tight despite her trembling hands. The dwarf woman's pale face was set in a grim line as she stared at the narrow path. "We need to keep moving or we'll be swept away," Merrin said grimly, helping Varrika shift her weight onto her good leg. She knew they had to find solid ground quickly—both to escape the rising water and to prevent The Guardian from catching up.

The roar of the river filled her ears as she helped Varikka inch toward the narrow ledge, every muscle in her body tensed against the pull of the current. They were running out of time—and options.