Round 947

The massive dark mirror behind them shimmered ominously, its surface showing a dusty laboratory one moment, swirling darkness the next. 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.

"Careful," Merrin breathed beside her, eyes fixed on the spreading pool of darkness at their feet. The ground shifted again beneath them, a low groan of stressed stone that raised goosebumps on Varrika's arms. More rubble cascaded somewhere in the tunnels beyond. She tried to shift her weight onto her good leg but the oily surface offered no purchase.

Then Merrin grabbed her arm suddenly, steadying her as she stumbled—her ankle screaming fresh pain despite her efforts to ignore it. "There," the halfling said, pointing at the mirror's surface. "I think that might be our way out." The image had stabilized briefly, revealing a narrow doorway in the distance of the laboratory reflection.

Varikka stared at the door in the glass, heart pounding. It was barely visible, and even if it led somewhere safe, navigating through these treacherous passageways on her injured ankle would be nearly impossible. But staying meant certain death when The Guardian caught up—either by crushing or drowning them both. She forced herself to take a step forward, gritting her teeth against the pain.

The oily substance sloshed around their feet, threatening to send them tumbling at any moment. Merrin's grip on her arm tightened as Va...