Round 998

The water roared in Merrin's ears, vibrating through her skull and down into her chest. She watched Varrika vanish into the torrent—swept away so fast it looked like the current had simply absorbed her whole. The sound of that rushing water filled everything, a constant reminder of what she couldn't do: she couldn't swim through this, couldn't fight it, couldn't even slow it down.

She wasn't stupid enough to dive in after her friend. One look at those churning waters told her everything she needed to know—this wasn't just a stream, it was a river masquerading as a hallway. The current was too fast, the flow too strong. She'd be dead before she made it ten feet downstream.

So instead, Merrin did what she always did when faced with an impossible problem: she looked for the edges. Where was the weakness? What was the leverage?

The sound of rushing water filled the narrow passage—fast-moving water that had swallowed Varikka whole. Merrin pressed herself against the wall, trying to find solid footing on the slick stone. Every surface felt like it might give way at any moment. She could still feel the ghost of the current pulling at her legs, threatening to drag her back into its flow.

She wasn't about to let some ancient water feature kill her friend and get away with it. The halfling's eyes scanned the rushing torrent, searching for any sign of movement, any clue where Varrika might have ended up. The water was too churned up to see clearly—all she could make out were swirling eddies and the occasional glimpse of something pale that might have been stone or flesh.

She wasn't stupid enough to dive in after her friend. One look at those churning waters told her everything she needed to know—this wasn't just a stream, it was.