Round 946

Varikka's injured ankle screamed in protest as she lurched forward, mace held ready. The oily substance on the floor lapped hungrily at her boot heels, seeping between ancient stones with disturbing eagerness. She could feel the vibration of Merrin's heartbeat through their pressed sides—terror or adrenaline, probably both.

"We can't stay here," Merrin said beside her, voice tight enough to snap. The massive mirror behind them shimmered ominously, its surface showing a dusty laboratory one moment, swirling darkness the next. Varikka's gaze flicked between the creeping oil and the shifting reflection, stomach twisting with equal dread.

The ground shifted again beneath their feet, a low groan of stressed stone that raised goosebumps on her arms. More rubble cascaded somewhere in the tunnels beyond. Merrin grabbed her arm suddenly, steadying her as she stumbled—her ankle screaming fresh pain despite her efforts to ignore it.

"Careful," the halfling breathed, eyes fixed on the spreading pool of darkness at their feet. Varikka nodded grimly, shifting her weight onto her good leg. The oil seemed to be spreading faster now, lapping at the mirror's massive frame with disturbing purpose.

The Guardian roared again, closer this time—a sound like tearing metal and shattering bone that vibrated through her teeth. It was still coming. They were running out of options—and fast.