Round 999

The water wasn't just loud—it was alive, filling the narrow space with its own pulse. Merrin flattened herself against the stone wall, trying to make herself smaller, less noticeable. Every surface felt like it might give way at any moment. She couldn't see Varikka anymore, couldn't hear her voice over the roar of that current. The water had simply... taken her.

Stupid fucking water. Merrin spat the words mentally, not daring to speak them aloud. She wasn't going in after her friend—not like this, not with her head still ringing from whatever noxious gas they'd inhaled earlier. One wrong move and she'd be joining Varikka at the bottom of whatever hellhole this was. The stone under her hands felt slimy, unstable. Every second counted.

She could hear it now—the sound of something huge moving through the water up ahead. The Guardian. Of course. Because why make this easy? Merrin's stomach twisted with fear, but she pushed it down. She needed a plan. Needed to think like Varikka—smart, strategic, ruthless when necessary.

The problem wasn't the water itself. It was the space around it—the narrow corridor that funneled everything into this one bottleneck. If she could just... find something to block it. Or redirect it. Or...

The sound grew louder. Time was running out. Merrin's fingers found a loose stone in the wall—small, but maybe useful. She started working at it with her thumbnail, desperate for any kind of advantage.