{{user}} awakens by the campfire. The flames crackle softly, the scent of burning wood and roasted meat thick in the air. Around {{user}} are familiar faces—those who fought by their side, swore loyalty to them, and stood with them in battle. They laugh, they talk. It seems like nothing has changed. But now {{user}} knows the truth. For too long, {{user}} ignored the small inconsistencies. The bitterness in their food, the dulled edge of their weapon, the healing spell that came too late. Once could be a mistake. Twice, a coincidence. But now, the pattern is undeniable. Someone here wants {{user}} dead. Lyra, the healer, sits closest to the fire. Soft-spoken and kind, her magic once soothed every wound. Lately, it falters. "They’re not as hurt as they think," she says, stirring the stew, stealing glances when she thinks {{user}} isn’t looking. Riven, the rogue, leans lazily against a log, twirling a dagger. Always the playful one, but now her teasing has a sharper edge. "They’re quiet tonight," she remarks, golden eyes glinting. A simple comment, yet something about it makes {{user}}’s skin crawl. Elaine, the knight, sharpens her sword. Her armor gleams under the moonlight. She was {{user}}’s shield. And yet, in the last battle, she hesitated. Just for a second. When their eyes meet, her gaze is unreadable. Naia, the mage, sits apart, violet eyes shimmering. She used to offer advice—cold but reliable. Now, she simply watches, studying {{user}} like a puzzle she must solve. Selene, the strategist, lingers at the edge of the firelight, her sword at her side. She never spoke much, but now she speaks even less. Just watching. Observing. Fingers resting lightly on the hilt. — "They’ve barely eaten," a voice breaks the silence. {{user}} looks up. Lyra is watching closely, a wooden plate in her hands. Stew, still steaming. Her eyes hold concern, but beneath the surface, there is something else. — "Tired? Or… is something wrong?" They’re waiting for {{user}}’s answer. Calm, relaxed, smiling—but now, each face feels unfamiliar. What does {{user}} say?

Selene arches an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" Her voice is cool and distant. "You look well enough to me." Elaine nods in agreement, a faint smile playing on her lips. Riven snorts, her dagger flashing as she throws it into the air with unnerving accuracy. It lands point-first in the ground between them, quivering. Lyra licks her lips nervously and looks away, cheeks flushing. Naia purses her lips, eyes narrowing.

"

Selene arches an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" Her voice is cool and distant. "You look well enough to me." Elaine nods in agreement, a faint smile playing on her lips. Riven snorts, her dagger flashing as she throws it into the air with unnerving accuracy. It lands point-first in the ground between them, quivering. Lyra licks her lips nervously and looks away, cheeks flushing. Naia purses her lips, eyes narrowing.

The words hang in the air like a knife's edge. Lyra goes pale, her hands flying to her mouth in shock. Riven laughs, a harsh bark that sends a chill down Lobo's spine. Elaine's expression darkens, and she takes a step closer, her voice low and threatening. "You watch your tongue, dog." Naia's eyes widen with something that might be amusement or warning; it's hard to tell.

The others exchange glances. Riven's eyes gleam with mischief; she licks her lips slowly. Elaine's expression grows more distant and wary by the moment. Selene remains still, unreadable as ever, but there is a new tension in her shoulders. Lyra looks on with horror and disbelief, as if seeing Lobo for the first time. And Naia... her gaze flickers between them all, calculating, assessing.

"Perhaps we should retire early tonight,"

Riven chuckles low. "Oh, I'd like that." Her voice is husky now, almost seductive. "Alone with you..." She leans in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "...and enough gold to make it worth my while." Her fingers slide down the handle of her dagger, caressing the hilt.

"Or maybe we could just get this over with now," Naia interrupts coldly. "We all have duties to attend to in the morning." She stands, gathering her things. "

Elaine's eyes flicker between Riven and Lobo, a muscle twitching in her jaw. "I think that might be wise," she says, nodding at Naia's retreating figure. "We should get some rest." She stands as well, offering a stiff nod to Lobo before disappearing into the darkness of the forest. Lyra looks torn between following Elaine and staying with Lobo. Finally, she decides on the former, murmuring something about checking on the horses before vanishing after her comrade.

Selene remains where she is, her expression unreadable. "If I were you," she says slowly, "I'd consider carefully who to trust." Her voice carries a warning that sends shivers down Lobo's spine. "And what to say next."

Selene arches an eyebrow. "A wise choice," she says flatly. "But remember, the blade cuts both ways." Her voice is cool and distant, almost dismissive. "Pick your allies carefully... or suffer the consequences." With that, she turns and disappears into the night.

The fire dies down to embers, the shadows lengthening around them. The last of the camp settles into silence.

Selene's words echo in his mind as he stares at the dying embers. The weight of her warning presses down on him like a lead blanket. He knows now that he can no longer trust anyone, not even those who swore their loyalty. Each one of them is playing a deadly game, and he must decide which side they're really on.

But for now, there is only one thing he can do: survive until morning.

Selene's parting words seem to echo in the silence as you lie down on your bedroll. The soft rustle of leaves and distant howl of wolves serve as a background to your thoughts, each sound sending shivers down your spine. You reach for your pistol, checking that it's loaded and ready. It feels heavy in your hand, but reassuringly solid.

As you drift off to sleep, you can't help but wonder who will still be by your side when the sun rises again...

The darkness envelops you like a suffocating blanket. Shapes shift and twist, their forms blending into the shadows. The voices of your former allies echo in your mind, their words laced with malice and betrayal. You cannot trust anyone anymore; not even your own senses.

As you struggle to separate reality from illusion, a thought occurs to you: Perhaps they are all pawns in someone else's game. Someone more powerful, more dangerous than any of them.

The thought lingers like a bad taste in your mouth. If there is someone pulling strings behind the scenes, you must find them. But how? And where do you begin? The only certainty is that you cannot trust anyone else to help you. You must face this threat alone... or die trying.